Laced Grounding

I pull up my garter slow,
one leg at a time.
Let it drag over my knee.

Let the stretch and pull erase and
allow the tight fit to squeeze in between
me and whatever it is I’m supposed to look like.

And for a moment
I can embrace the fupa,
enjoy the rough brush of lower leg hair
and even encourage my large areolas to eclipse
whatever lack remains on my skin.

I will arouse myself into existence,
backlit against my insecurities.
Silver linings.

— Amon Elise