new poem: kissed there myself

kissed there myself

my poem wears a skirt

& tells the truth

the only blush on her 

brushed on cinnamon 

her name

she shameless 

flaunts sequins clutches 

dutch wax headscarves

struts in hand painted clogs 

for comfort & fishnet stockings 

just because

my poem will 

turn her head if

you call oshun 

holds mirrors for court 

conch shell for microphone

wears midnight liquid eyeliner

what braves

skinny-dips

chango storms & tears

what savors a lover’s searching 

tongue

what staves off

a stranger’s wet disses 

she river rocks the house regardless

tactile reflection

the only yellow on her a gift 

from an old worshipped sun

my poem 

borrowed one of frida’s skirts

gold dusted & seaweed hemmed

solar flared 

with five embroidered roses 

azure beads 

one pocket full of graphite pencils 

the other heavy with citrine & yes

skirt long 

to cover the stiffness of legs 

running in time 

with ella’s gibberish

saturday long 

to catch the wind like a monarch

the only stain on her my own

inky thumbprints

& the lipstick 

i kissed there myself

© 2011 by Lenelle Moїse