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

in collection, The Anatomy of Structures, 2010, Flambard Press,
ISBN 978-1-906601-17-1;
published in Smiths Knoll, 40, 2007, ISSN 0964-6310