Close Encounters of the Right Kind
in a world full of sharp edges—
teeth
knees
elbows
you were a pillowed mound
of compassion—soft cheeks lifted
in that crescent moon smile
arms that felt less tomb
more angel embrace
where i could sit comfortably
in my own skin—
i never had to pick the splinters
of your words beneath my fingernails
because they slid like warm honey
across my open, waiting lips
Arvilla Fee
If you have any thoughts about this
poem, Arvilla
Fee would like
to hear them.
