tagNon-Erotic PoetryCurious Ants

Curious Ants


I remember this struggle. To the far back of the levee like Jacob that drew Sharon to the needle. Wondering if the men in ships could see my come hither pose. Wondering if one knee to the chest and the other leg filled to the thigh with curious ants is a sultry pose. The hand made its way to Mississippi, broken and banged by Christians. Things are so different here but just the same. The desperate pull and tug in hopes that a flower of love will grow from the tip. Or a rolled hundred dollar bill. He said, if you can move like she moved, I might etch the moment on my skin in a wide space on my back. He showed me. Or on your throat. With this needle. I lay on my belly, took off my shirt and pants, and asked him to paint me from behind the levee.

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byKikahCornelius© 0 comments/ 472 views/ 0 favorites

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