The Phone Courtesan


Body of a Woman

“Body of woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.

– Pablo Neruda

While I was recently enjoying a few days in the mountains, the voice of Pablo Neruda came to me.

I was watching the fog quietly roll in and cover our mountains, as if it were very familiar with every curve and valley the terrain offered to it.
While watching the slow motion of the fog, it made me feel the touch of a lover’s hand that knows just how and where to softly explore. The fog is allowed to creep slowly over the trees and the ground, covering it from view. Hiding it, suffocating it, with a silent visible care that only the mountains seem to understand.
It is just that way with a knowing lover’s hand that you need and that you want to have cover you, hide you, and suffocate you.
When the blanket of fog had drifted away, I found it had left it’s print on the mountain. The light dusting of snow that it left to cover the mountain will melt, seeping into the ground and give life sustaining nourishment that is so needed for the mountains to survive.
That is exactly why we need our lovers hand on our body.
His print nourishes me all day. I relive his touch in my mind and my heart, and I find that I need it again and again. It feeds me. It sustains me.


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