Thursday, September 4, 2008


She eases me back in the chair
I can smell her scent faintly
A mist of magnolia on a sultry night
Her hands are small and soft and light
She unbuttons my shirt
She pulls it open at the collar
Then the rattle of the brush
Spinning inside of the cup
I close my eyes and try to relax
Her hands spread the shaving lather
Over my cheeks my chin my throat
Her finger tips trace the topography
The curve of the cheek
The angle of the chin
The edges of the mouth
She steps back and I hear
That whisper of steel on strop
A subtle burring sound again and again
Then she steps close
I feel her heat through my skin
And then she caresses me
With a cut throat razor
An expert at her craft she
Shaves away the shadow of the day
Lays bare the skin beneath it
Without error
Until I am as naked as the boy I was
A long time ago

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