Days of Legs

These days of legs have shifted
From daring bareness to black opaques
The passage of autumn to winter
Measured in denier
Ankles slip into hibernation.

Still, some skin to tease with
Short skirts and over-knee stockings
Sometimes tied off under-knee
I openly deplore the return of skinny jeans.

From old greenmarket rubble a concrete carcass
Stilted against the New Gate glamour.
Twilight haunts this city
Highlights the desires we are seeking.
Fingers enwrapped and visible breath
Hi-viz jackets work the crumble of Greenmarket
Below linear framework.
Tall cranes nod and tilt toward progression,
Will they ever leave this skyline?

On the bus and I am high on the aroma
Pastries and pies surreptitiously sneaked
Into the child-like mouths around me.

The days of legs have turned to night
A flurry of tight denim shorts over medium opaque
And it’s just enough, just enough
To quicken the beat within,
Set a rhythm for my mind to dance to.
I remind myself that winter
Is prelude.

james oates, Nov.2008