WHERE POEMS ARE FOUND

Lying on her side, reading, on the beach,

a young woman looked up and smiled at me.

I almost dropped what I held, looking back.



They expressed so much by seeming to hide

or to reveal that which expressed nothing,

but there was no message in her bright eyes.



They had direction, they moved, in service

to the sense of sight, but only as if she still

read from a page, a little more, a little less.



In that smile she shared her experience

of pleasure reading and I just happened

to be there, like her thumb in the margin.



I bit into the fruit, surrounding it,

that resembles the roundness of buttocks,

and scraped my teeth against the stone of the peach.

© Kevin Regalbuto