Shaunika
James Bland
I was lying
on the porch hammock
reading Shakespeare
when she returned my call.
Ocean-wetted lips.
Blackberry skin.
Hips and booty
bursting out of string bikini.
I don’t know what I said,
but after she hung up,
I held the phone in my hand,
pretending it was her hand,
her delicate flesh and blood.
I lay back in my hammock,
lazy as a cat,
the fan blowing blowing Shakespeare’s onion-skin pages:
Hamlet, As You Like It, The Tempest
Oh God, I’m in love
and will never read anything else again!
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