I wake from restless sleep, go about my day,
speak to a girlfriend about poetry & sex (or the lack of it).
We joke & she writes that she almost spit out
a mouthful of coffee on her monitor
from laughing. I smile then.
She sends me a link to a site that offers
various gifts of pleasure, tells me to choose.
I accept her offer,
& pick a soft, purple one with tiny flowers
whose petals spin against places
where a woman might feel lonely, aching
on the outside &
have a heart trembling inside her
for fear of the cold.
I wonder if men know
that when they give a woman a flower,
they should consider running its petals
along her pretty breasts, slide them
slowly across her abdomen, the curve
of her hip, her soft thighs.
Use it to awaken
the spot where she blossoms.
– Heather Lenz
February 15, 2016