Kate Light
May 2000




Greg's Legs

are long
strong
exhalations
of bone
and soft fur
draped all over
her;
unless
he is alone,
in which case
erase
all thought
of "draped"; they're not,
but laid
splayed
or folded to rest
in a nest
of down and cotton.
She's gotten
attached
to those thatched
legs
of Greg's,
no explanations,
confess-
ions or commentary
required
by her.
On the contrary.
She's never tired
of the extreme-
ly long fe-
mur,
and the thigh
rising high
to hook
into the nook
of pelvic socket.
And what of
her love
for the pocket
on the other end:
the bend
above
the clavicle
where the hollow dips
could store paper clips
in some radical
yet ancient
design?
Or her penchant
for the line
of spine,
or running down
the crown,
or going to town
on feeling
everything




Kate Light, 2000.