M. Stone

Safe Haven
His room:
dim-lit, a gauze
cocoon where I
spend Friday nights.
Patchouli incense
smoke reddens my
eyes. My feet,
flat as Kansas,
cannot withstand
high heels
so he dresses me
in a suit and tie,
Oxford shoes
while he dons
a flowing skirt
and low-cut top.
As we dance, I
lead and he follows,
our clasped hands
a moist kiss.
In his room we play
gender-fluid games,
safe from the Bible
Belt’s lash.

M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer who writes poetry and fiction while living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poetry has appeared in SOFTBLOW. She can be reached at writermstone.wordpress.com.