It was mud.
We were giddy children
as we cupped our hands,
scooped it up, smeared
ourselves and each other,
spattered bathing suits and hair.

It was mud
but it looked like chocolate.
I became hungry
to strip off my suit and
skinny dip, up to my neck
in bittersweet. I resisted the urge
to lick myself clean.

Phyllis Wax writes in Milwaukee on a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. Inspired by nature and human nature, her poetry has appeared in many publications, including Rhino, Spillway, Peacock Journal, Naugatuck River Review, New Verse News. Bittersweet chocolate flavors her dreams.