Impossible to separate
This swell of flesh
from the way it has been held
raised high and loud and proud
in my plunging dress.
through a plethora of mouths and fingerprints
the rude protrusion of the thing
a soft announcement of flesh
a kiss of darker skin
a single hair, curled
no, but as the nipple hears its name
and reaches for the pleasure that attention promises
a second hair or one hair split
forked tongue from the same fine pore
curl out toward the sentry of my frame of vision.
tomorrow I may pluck this slight distraction away.