alien landscape brian Schlundt

The landscape is alien

Though it ought to be familiar. I run my hands across bare flesh

Taking hold of chest, feeling nipple pressed against palm

Caressing neck—how would it feel if I could kiss the nape—

Sliding hand down to naked hip, around to butt cheek that must be squeezed

Moving to thighs, feeling the strength of contracted muscles

Fingers explore and massage each foot. Feels so good

Feels gay.

Yes, this landscape of flesh belongs to one the same gender as myself.

Why did it take so long to get to know this body, to discover the beauty, the pleasure, and the ecstasy of making love to myself