She missed the prose
Of a man’s body
She found him through an online
Personal’s ad
The first time she sketched him
She was taken aback by the topography
Of his chest
She joked that lately all
She’d been painting was her house
There most recent date had been
At an art gallery opening
And even though she no longer
Played on their team
She still wore a rainbow flag
Out of support
He didn’t think you could quit
A sexual orientation
Like you could quit a sport
His mother thought she was cute
Though she felt she didn’t eat enough
When she was younger, she was a stick insect
But time blessed her with womanly curves
And bulbous breasts
She didn’t consider herself an old maid
But she was past her child-bearing years

Saturday mornings, they lay together
He’d pinch her raisin nipples
And she’d get on top of him
And ride, joking she was close
To the mountaintop
“It’s not how long you do it
But how you do it, that matters,”
She said, as she rubbed his bible black muscles
He tasted her and discovered the ocean
She pushed him on his back and said
“Let me do the honor,” as she
Mounted him
Even after 20 years she never forgot
Love is the only sport that matters

-- Erren Geraud Kelly