" Nude Descending a Soapbox

It was hard to take her seriously.
The issues were real
I know
But so was the show of thigh
the smooth swagger of hips
the ripple of tender tissue as it flexed
and unflexed before the listening eye.

She had a point to make
strong arguments too
but she had curves
that flashed into the afternoon light
and a bend in her back
that took three beats
out of the heart's every four.

She aroused with her conviction
entertained with her wit
and reasoned soundly
but as the nude stepped down from her soapbox
the utterance of her flesh
the parlance of her posture
the two pronouncements of her breasts

spoke with a diction that was far more convincing
than any jargon rhetorical.
In the end
it was the appeal
of the succulent spaces
that shaped her ankles
that lasted

and left one believing
that no lifetime would be wasted
in pursuit of her out-takes
on a quest for the mysteries of and beyond her flesh.
Sometimes the only available hold is language.
The body begs translation
of what words approximate

because the meaning of things said
and unsaid
like the line
of her neck
is exactly
what renders one satisfied
and speechless. "

― , On the Eighth Day Adam Slept Alone: New Poems