Esther

I used to fall for fuller figures,
but as she leaned her leanness on me,
supporting her slight, slenderness,
close enough to whisper,
while people pressed past;
my tastes changed.
We both grew hungry.

In a room lending shadows
We’d come… to talk.
On a borrowed bed
We came… so to speak.

I tried to learn her lines,
but half light turned to morning after.
Covered by covers of linen on-loan,
memories of form
fade with the ethanol
into the ether.

I won’t forget you Esther.
Or your quiet concave curves.