Blue Bowl

A clear ultramarine blue bowl,
Its shallow exterior curve, like the fullness of your breast,
No lip. Just smooth cool glass holding.

Its shadow reflected on the tabletop,
A faint blue cast spilling over the waxed wood,
Holding a pile of Braeburn apples and dimpled tangerines.

This is the center of our love,
The tender fruit coddled in the shining blue bowl,
The cherry dining table, cleared for dinner.

I stand in the doorway watching and wanting,
The wide glass bowl holding our love,
Your lips on the back of my neck.

About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
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