Poem Person

She was poetry to him 
As if she didn't even have any bones
But was liquid air 
The way the wind brushes back your hair
And you swear it is soft, soft fingers 
Tucking it back behind your ears
Instead it is wildly invisible
Too gentle for our eyes to see
She was the easy spill of 
"i love you"s over once trembling lips
silk curtains dancing before the open window
laughing in the breeze
it was the simplicity in the way she moved
As if life itself would buy a ticket
to her own performance of it
because she could make an apron look like a ball gown
And bare feet freckled in mud like her glass slippers
She was beautiful in every practice
And she was beautiful in every design
Like the sun and moon and stars circled about her
And every touch was music 
Her eyes, what a melody
Even her organs seemed to sing
Her heart pulsing against her skin to a lovely little beat
She was a flood of every good thing Simply wrapped up in skin
No wonder she flowed like a river
Immeasurably wide
Because even if to every other person 
She seemed quite ordinary 
She was indeed the sweetest poetry to him. 

-anna sluder

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