ken doll chests contradicting
themselves with fuzzy
hair and cool, firm clay
to lay your head upon
and close your eyes.
hands shaped from granite, sculpted
by standards, goals,
and expectations
that lose their shape
and become formless
to hurt you
when they’re angry
or yield fingers
to touch
and hold you when
you please them.
plump bottom lips
with tiny lines
that split them while
sleeping or suffer themselves
as tightropes spewing
hurtful things
when they split yours.
adonis thighs,
ice sculpture photographs
of marathon
running – and running
out when you
need them, falling
down stairs
to a busted up tooth,
a broken bank account,
and a sleepless night
watching porn
while you sleep tossing
in the bed you share
alone.
jenifer.wills 
September 13th, 2011 at 9:54 pm
From a man usually blind to poetry: This is really something.
September 13th, 2011 at 11:35 pm
I am not any of these things.
September 14th, 2011 at 3:59 pm
Thank you, Don.
And maybe I’ll change the title to ‘some men’. ;)
September 11th, 2012 at 7:01 am
Wow. This makes my heart hurt. Good job.
September 11th, 2012 at 9:38 pm
Thanks, Rose. And thanks for taking the time to read. <3