You say the word “perfect”

as if it is new,

just discovered in papyrus scroll

having been buried in the lost sands

of Alexandria for a millennia.

The adjective rolls loose

from your tongue,

your ever-inviting lips

and greets every inch of me –

my palms, fingertips, calves,

thighs, breasts and the dewy skin

beneath my chin;

and I feel divine,

as if you have uttered a prayer,

a long forgotten hymn of worship

although I know I am far from perfect,

the word sounds new,

when you say it,

this feeling of worth

is new, and all I shall ever ask

of you.

 

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In response to August 11th: Divinity, #rainasmprompts

Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally