Underbelly

Rough
exterior, tanned
sun-drenched
yellow hand,
Belies its owner
Hidden grace
carved beneath

Fine-etched contours
Shape beer-battered fish
Mold soft breasts
Render love
in electronic ink

Palm to upturned lips
Bite gently into
round flesh

Want to consume him
Touch
his touch
in a spot so public,
no one notices
Contemplating
that warm morsel,
that secret underbelly,
that private song

Reaching out, hand open—
“Are you nervous?” it asks.

Damp sweat-seeped
skin replies—
Tips now touching,
Fingers weaving,
Interlaced until
Deep lines
Cover both


Kosin Huang