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Like Monet and Tito Puente

Like Monet and Tito Puente

(medium: watercolor on Latin jazz)
Railroad flat, bohemian

awash in thrift store

antiques and rhetorical fervor

youth and heated flesh

the headboard’s staccato

beat, wood against wall

below, a neighbor’s complaint

the thud and knock

his broom’s handle a fervent backbeat

to the headboards clack and splat

the crescendo, an old bed with weak slants

the tickle of your laugh

dances across my cheek

your palm, firm and warm

rests against my hip


snow rims the frozen window

an oblong halo of ice

the whistle and rattle of wind

presses against the glass

you pull me closer

as we slide down,

down the tumbled mattress

beneath the puddled quilt

your breath hot and moist

bathes my skin

firm fingers splay

across the hollow of my belly

and you nuzzle my neck

with a smile

-from Visions of a Post-Apocalyptic Sunrise: Detroit Poems


Published inFeatured Poem