His Two Arms
one on each side of his body
as he stands before the refrigerator,
leans in, and pillages for food—
purple grapes, a hunk
of Swiss, Kalamata olives—
his forearms covered
with a modicum of hair,
each of his arms
unadorned and no-nonsense,
muscled at the biceps,
not bulging and rippling and knotted
with blue veins
like on guys who pump iron
and wear tank shirts from Gold’s Gym,
but curving and rising
like two hills bordering the campsite
where before you a feast is laid.
—from Temptation by Water (Wind Publications, 2010)
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