[Her name here]

He used to rest his head against her ample bosom

like a calf after a good milking.


She had a saintly beauty hard to imagine

but especially difficult to recreate

that he swore even Lucian Freud would’ve found the task of portraying her naked flesh

on canvas a task of high-stakes.


Her bronze skin made him embrace all that it coated –

her tissue, her blood, her bones, even her underpinnings.


Her eyes like distant stars twinkled.


Her hair naturally flowed down the back of her neck like feathers

and her shoulders carried the ends like a child on its father’s….


Her legs were perfect poles –

they walked into, then across and right past his world –

top, sides and finally down.


© Heath Muchena, 2014

2 Comments on “[Her name here]”

  1. dougstuber says:

    Just as good, perhaps better. Will read more now.


  2. htmm says:

    Reblogged this on On The Heath .


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