Love in the Time of Cholera

I'm prickly

squirmy

and keenly aware of the salt and pepper curls

falling about my shoulders.

It’s more salt than pepper these days,

but the seductive tickle makes me want to go sleeveless or even

bare.

I want to whisper

Throaty and deep

“Mmmmm …”

but it sounds ridiculous

in my empty home.

As if I could practice

and reacquaint myself

with a part of me I’d thought was

finished.

I consider the curves

of a body I’ve not considered in quite some time

and wonder if she could find comfort,

ecstasy even,

in the plump mounds and valleys that have been

with me my whole life,

still riper for all my years and

thick.

I catch myself second guessing and

on the edge of tears.

For what though?

Need? Perhaps.

Fear? Maybe.

Embarrassment?  Definitely.

I’m a grown ass woman and

grown ass women don’t get swoony

giddy

twitchy,

particularly in the middle of a pandemic.

Damn.

~ Mk Michaels, 2020