Saturday, 22 March 2014

Bosom Friends

                        From Saigon’s bright bustling
                        into an Aladdin’s cave,
                        shelves of silk in strata
                        of sapphire, emerald, ruby.
She flows soft rivers through her arms,
across the rush-matted floor
over my shoulders
hands dancing
framing me with chosen fabric.

Sweat sequins her brow
jet eyes twinkle beside
an ebony fall of hair.
A bonsai woman with twiglike arms
tiny trunk, swaying
in an imperceptible breeze
slim legs
two downward strokes
of a calligrapher’s brush.
I dwarf her.

She clambers onto a stool
calling figures to an assistant,                                      
passes the tape around me
across my bust - looks at the number
Our eyes meet -
words rustling like leaves
she says, Nice big titties!
cups them in miniature fingers.
I’d rather be your size, I reply
and we laugh and hug.

                       ©  Margaret Eddershaw

From Catching Light by Margaret Eddershaw, published in 2013 by Poetry Space Ltd

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