Submission Guidelines

 

“No poems about your morning coffee.”

But I love mine.

It’s organic,

French Roast,

expensive.

I prepare it the night before.

I think about how

the black liquid

will turn tan

when it mixes with the ½ and ½

on the bottom of my mug.

How I will stand at the kitchen sink,

look out the window

purse my lips

and sip.

 

Maybe that editorwoman-drinking-coffee_300

doesn’t understand

the hint of jasmine

on a spring evening,

the brush of your lover’s

finger on your thigh,

or the perfect cup

of coffee

kissing you full

smack on your lips

each morning.

So Beautiful…

 

I was looking down at himlooking down
his hands pulled my hair away from my face
he was looking up at me
we were in his small room
the sun was bright
shining through sheer curtains
reflecting off of light walls
his strong hands
capable
his dark eyes
pulling at me
his voice
a hungry whisper
‘you’re so beautiful’ he said

I let him pull me into him

Sometimes I’ll feel
the dusting of his print
on my inner thigh
on the curve of my lower back
on my belly
I’ll taste that morsel
let it melt on my tongue
that instant
when I gave myself
to this man

I felt I was woman
but I was still girl

Kiss

Stirring
Pursed
Expectant
Parted
Breathy
Anticipation
Tender
Assumption
Supposition
Flexibility
Beating
Eager
Pink
Subtle

Yielding
Pliable
Pleading
Covetous
Grasping
Vapors
Appeal
Pink
Frost
Liquid
Haze
Steamy
Fluid
Blush
Ignite
Molten
Pink

Lingering
Hunger
Pierces
Permeates
Penetrates
Pink
Orange
Lava
Courses
Fire
Translates
Red