The Way We Were Made by Marcus Wicker

But you made every

delicate, elegant wrist

& glistening ankle.

But you made them

beautiful

in braided rope

& dime store gold.

But you made every

necklace clasp.

But you made them

caress the nape

like an errant wind

after a shower.

But you made every

eyelash erotic. Every

single strand of hair

soft.

But you made them

from dust & bone.

Made every glorious

singing thigh. Every

button nose.

But you made them

with holes—

wide open

to the faintest hints

of salt

in a sea breeze, salt

in the sweaty mouth

of a navel, salt

in the blood, sweet

in every wrong way.