I wanted to write a poem today.
Nothing had come to mind and then
I thought about my clothes,
I thought about my cardigan;
I thought about her in my cardigan.
Thinking about how the sleeves drape
perfectly to her wrists, that I
clutch like handle bars when
she’s riding me.
Thinking about the knit
covering her heart that beats
at the same pace as mine
when climax is near.
Thinking about how the white
emphasizes her long, black hair
that highlights to brown in
angled lighting.
I thought about details in how
I styled her; one button.
Gripping her sides, right above the hip,
as if I were adjusting the garment.
Gripping her sides, right above the hip,
pulling her closer one inch.
After a while, I stopped thinking about
the cardigan and
thought about the moment
that introduced us to one another.
After a while, I stopped thinking about
the moment and
realized I was thinking about her.

by. Philip G. Steverson