edible – Flash Fiction

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Womanhood, and all that is a woman, and the man that comes from woman,
The womb, the teats, nipples, breast-milk, tears, laughter, weeping, love-looks, love-perturbations and risings,
The voice, articulation, language, whispering, shouting aloud,
Food, drink, pulse, digestion, sweat, sleep, walking, swimming,
Poise on the hips, leaping, reclining, embracing, arm-curving and tightening,
The continual changes of the flex of the mouth, and around the eyes,
The skin, the sunburnt shade, freckles, hair,
The curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body,
The circling rivers the breath, and breathing it in and out,
The beauty of the waist, and thence of the hips, and thence downward toward the knees,
The thin red jellies within you or within me, the bones and the marrow in the bones,
~Walt Whitman, Body Electric

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He doesn’t notice her at first, but he does, notice her that is.
Her wrists are as thin as twigs. He thinks he could probably break them if he holds too tight. Her chest heaves unevenly as uncontrolled breaths puff off her lips to meet stray hair.
She isn’t anything noteworthy, her breasts aren’t as big as the others nor her ass as bouncy as the others.
But the way she twists and turns around the pole, and rolls her head lazily just the right way has him hypnotized.
And as he watches her loll herself with an oblivious gyrating of her hips—eyes closed all the while, half-lidded but never opening them—a deep hunger coils within him.
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