Shirtless, mostly smooth, just a
trace of hair along his sternum,
he stands, head tilted forward, arms crossed,
right hand at elbow, left under arm,
thumb brushing nipple, looking serious,
even perhaps a touch imperious.
Dark straight hair’s rather short,
but layered with scissors, not buzz-cut.
Cleft chin, face fresh and freshly shaven,
his brown eyes offering a safe haven.
Muscles toned but not muscle bound.
If he were mine, I’d want to keep him around.
T. Allen Culpepper