Y’all know how much I love e.e. cummings—I’ve shared a
variety of his poems with you over the years, about Spring,
about both love
and the shells of humans, about World
War I, and the ultimate (in my view) distillation
of war.
In this one I think cummings gives Andrew Marvell a run
for his money in terms of sending frissons of heat throughout various parts of
the reader’s body.
“i like my body”
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh...And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you quite so new
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