In the Humid Afternoon, by Karen Elizabeth Sharpe

We were riding our bikes at sunset
languid breezes soaking my skin
when I started to think 
about the way his fingers 
had traced the lines of my palm
mapping distant routes 
through the humid afternoon
roads named Crow Hill 
Wolf Den, Little Snake
a surplus of animal pleasures
and it was like I floated up 
off my bike on wings
to sing the hunger of it all. 
The orange dome of wild sky 
spiraled. Waves of light 
burst my heart through
my eager body animate.
Our legs kept turning
churning toward dusk. 
In the high meadow 
I felt the hot winds unhitch
unravel, gravity undone.

–

Karen Elizabeth Sharpe is a poetry editor at The Worcester Review. Her poems have appeared in West Trade Review, The MacGuffin, Catalyst, Verse Virtual, Columbia Journal of Arts & Literature, and The Comstock Review, among others. She is the author of Prayer Can Be Anything (Finishing Line Press 2023). She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Karen is a member of the PoemWorks community in the greater Boston area.

© 2024, Karen Elizabeth Sharpe