Your Torso

If today’s lust must permeate to the
morrow, trust me when I say you remind
me of Otis Redding radio on
Spotify, try a little tenderness
here, where doot doot doot doo-doo is the sound
of your ringtone on my phone, I pick up.

May I sing your brain? Refrain of antiphony,
you sit next to me, a frugal fugue
of your hemmed skirt, I sit up.

Rest easy, to the breeze of the AC
cooling and calming, vestige of oceans
as my palm presses your lower vertebrae,
but should I stay? Or obey your torso,
more so, appreciate your blues.

Aidan Wood is from Seattle. In 2021, his poem “How to Tell a Mother” was selected by Alex Dimitrov as a finalist in the H. MacKnight Black Poetry Competition. This is his first publication. More at aidanwood.com and on Twitter @aidanwood_.

 

Photography by: Catalin Paterau