Rochelle Bauer
Modern Woman I want to map the freckles on your face, on your body, just like Hipparchus did the stars back in 129 BC. Maybe I’ll use it to find my way back to Olympus. I can nearly picture your solicitous smile and the pointed slope of a nose that mirrors my own— a couple of Greek gods. Because I can be your modern Aphrodite, desperate to feel the sharpness of your hip bones pressed against my inner thighs. Rake your teeth down my body, don’t get caught on the curves. And in between nips of flesh, don’t be afraid to whisper my name.
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Etchings
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