A Body Untraveled Poem by David R.

Your eyes are the Sundarbans,
floating in high salty waters, unseen without a map.
They are reserved for tigers only,
none pass without stripes.

Your thighs are trees in the East,
slightly sun-touched, milky rivers
bathe their trunks and they are dried
by the Bengal moon.

Your waist-land is concealed under silky thickets,
moving with the midnight breeze, drinking with the forest.
When it rains your hips take shelter in the wilds
and exotic dance becomes their prey.

Your neck, lips, I scroll with my finger are
trails to your undergrowth-
Land I haven't packed for,
A torrent I'm not man enough to cross.