Imposter

Fear of being seen and rejected.

She spent the morning

of her date smoothing

white clay over the skin

on her arms

and her back

wherever her sundress 

will not cover.

She carefully coats each strand of

her woolen curls in gold.

When done, she

tucks them into a bun

and forces a ruby red smile.

He kisses her neck,

her hands,

her back,

touches her hair

moves down into her neckline to

kiss her breasts but

finds a crack in the white

in a soft sunken place

on her left breast,

white fading down

to soft brown.

He is repulsed.

Frozen, he stammers,

“you missed a spot”

and steps back from

her outstretched fingers,

and the soft mewl caught in

her wild thing throat.