Looking at Playboy with My Boyfriend
       

Each of their perfections
speaks to each of my imperfections.
Their long sleek legs to my short
muscular ones.
Their propped-up-promptly breasts
to my more realistic landscape.
Their round buttocks smooth as two melons
to my fruit salad of sorts.

I look at my boyfriend's face
to see if pleasure is obvious there
and think: How can he want me?
And this is supposed to be exciting?
A friend who suggested this
said: you have to be open to it,
the pleasure will come.
Does pleasure arrive like a sudden breeze

that makes you stop what you're doing
and feel it? Then why do I want
to go far away, clinging to nothing,
no expectations or judgment, to a place
where the light is sweet, even in its truthfulness,
silence is acceptable,
and more than anything,
I don't leave myself behind.

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Copyright © 2015 Yvonne Higgins Leach All rights reserved
from Another Autumn
WordTech Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission