|
published
in Smiths Knoll 40, 2007. ISSN 0964 – 6310
Leotard
He comes across it
by accident.
His
washing pile muddled with hers.
It’s
slippery, black, has a nice stretch to it.
There’s
a mirror, an empty flat,
so
he strips, feels goose bumps spread
the
back of his thighs. He pulls it up too fast,
has
to re-tuck his balls inside the narrow gusset.
Once
on, tight and shiny, he distorts his physique
with
high arm stretches. The cat purrs approvingly
from
the edge of the bed. One last glance,
Lycra
wrapping the round of each buttock,
he
inhales and exhales, gets ready to leap.
Rebecca Goss
|
