By Luther Hughes
his mouth was patient,
in place, kneading the face

of the pelvis. the bone quiet,
tongue cupping the hip

as if biblical or infrangible.
his lips flipped through
the texture of the skin-–

the body wants his bite. for his teeth
to earn place along the navel,
but he was still. he tracked each

angle with a kiss. does that feel
? (body, remember to nod
next time.) his smile outlined

the thigh, the slow croon-–
he was humble, yes, studious

as if the crevices spoke
in chapters.
Luther Hughes was born in Seattle, Washington, but currently lives in Chicago where he is pursuing his B.A. in poetry at Columbia College Chicago. Luther’s work has be published or is forthcoming in The Voices Project, Modern Poetry Quarterly Review, Four Chambers Press, Curator Magazine, Chelsea Station Magazine, Good Men Project and M– USED Magazine. He curates, “Shade,” a literary blog for queer writers of color. You can follow him on twitter @lutherxhughes. He thinks you are beautiful.