M. Nasorri Pavone


The back of someone
is but a slippery front.

There is less interruption
on its calmer surface,

but a knob-less door
can be a wall.

I stare at the back of you
unclothed, standing away.

I can only beg silently
at back's beauty,

(and we are always away
when we turn.)

A twist of the head will do,
(Please. Will you?)

The ass can't mask itself
when moved by the legs.

Watch the walk from behind.
There are slack-asses, pain-

in-the-ass asses, some
roguish or sassy. In repose

it's a sad, circus clown
waiting for a slap. At best,

a lure. A flesh basket.
We live to be lured.

For you with jeans too soon
pulled up, we'll wait to see

how the wind blows.
You might be back or forth.

M. Nasorri Pavone's poems have appeared in The Cortland Review, New Letters, Harpur Palate, DMQ Review and elsewhere. She also writes plays. Her latest, Feeding Time celebrated its world premiere at last year's Hollywood Fringe Festival. She is a graduate of the University of California at Los Angeles and lives in Venice, California.

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