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

hesitates

checks.

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

More information