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Material may not be reused without author's explicit permission.

Odalisque II
by Guillermo Bosch





n this small dark
adobe room filled
with piñon smoke
and old Spanish lace,
amid the Santo de Christo
mountains where in
the distance peniténtes
chant of sin and blood
sacrifice, I lift your
blue denim dress over
your face and kiss
your black-haired
sacrament while
Ophelia paints your
breasts golden,
your nipples blue,
your face red and
purple, your arms
rattlesnake green,
she seems to
linger in indecision
at your lips, as her
fingers trace their
shape, your tongue
slips against her index
finger, she presses
inside and rubs
her ebony digit against
your painted skin. I
move my mouth
from you to her as
she bends down to
dip her brush in
your moist pallet
and with soft strokes
her camel hairs paint
your clit a deeper
shade of pink.

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