The Fine Print Poem by Gary Witt
The Fine Print
When she reached on tip-toe
To pull down the hazelnut
From above the La Marzocco,
Her shirt would ride up to reveal
Four lines of poetry in the smallest,
Most minute, illegible font;
A green quatrain tattooed upon
Her yoga-sculpted abdomen,
An inch below and to the side of
Her elegantly protruding hip-bone.
Looking, but trying
Not to look as if he looked,
Curious, shy, but obsessing
Over the content and meaning
Of this pelvic verse,
He imagined it to be
A message solely for a lover’s eyes,
In Sanskrit, Greek, or Aramaic;
Anglo Saxon or Middle English.
He dreamed of placing
His head in her hands,
Reading and savoring
Her indelible, obscure,
Indecipherable text.
Subtly sensual, interesting without having gone too far, leading the reader's thoughts into daydreaming....about what might be? Very tight, it didn't take many words here to paint the complete vision!
This is saying the same thing as my 'The Elusiveness of Woman' - only much tighter, and the mystery is bone chilling. Nice job, Gary.
Damn Gary this is a hot write.Her shirt would ride up to reveal for lines of poetry. I'm looking for her now!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 3:27:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I really enjoyed this. An intruiging write that leaves the reader using their own imaginations - not giving us any answers without leaving us feeling that we've been 'cheated' in any way. Yup, good stuff. Hugs Anna xxx