Magical Bodies

Magic swims in the dimples

of your cellulite,

spells out constellations

of a million stars

reflected in the lakes

of your thighs.

Skin sinks uneven,

settling softly over

peaks and valleys

like rolling ivory

pappus hills

in a story book,

the sunrise draped

in peach

and honey caramel.

You, inside

a utopia of

imperfection,

allowing yourself to be

carried by the wind,

a seed floating among

everything there is

and everything that possibly could be.

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