A Touch Of You

I just wrote this poem in around twenty minutes, after I noticed the flesh of Rena’s arm, that I bow down to, or, receive in a religious observance, like a humbled saint?

A Touch Of You


Jon Presco

Copyright 2017

Dedicated to my muse, Rena Easton


Just a hint of your naked flesh

lit me up like a cosmic fourth of July

It was all I could do

to look at your beautiful arm

There was the opening and shuddering

of my third eye

All this, for me

and nothing more

But, I could not stop myself

and kept on going.

The imagery you induced

was a slow-motion explosion

Your mother unleashed you.

You were no longer her baby

I saw elephants in India

walking thru the tall grass

where lost jewels

found their way home

they never forget.

Where it all spring from

the tanned shoulder

under the sun,

that powerful adult muscle

that went round

the shoulder blade.

A touch of deep blue

hiding in the warm curls

of your hair,

a glimpse of the nape

of your neck

then the deep plunge

down the channel of your spine

All this flesh

of the huntress and

the gatherer of our time


Those crevices

and folds

our tenderness

has not faded, all is not lost

just a corner of your nakedness

on my empty canvas

is enough!

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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