Stephanie Parry

Church 

by Stephanie Parry

My husband pulled the minivan into our usual parking spot that frosty Sunday morning. Looking out my window, I observed the

women entering the large, glass double doors of the church building, wearing high heels that were much too big, tip-toeing daintily,

trying not to slip on the snow-covered ground. Some held onto their husband’s arm for support while the single women walked

slower, looking around for someone to offer their help. They didn’t know how silly they all looked, trying to wear their hair

perfectly coifed and their dresses brushing their ankles. Ignoring the whining from the boys in the back seat, I opened my door and

stepped out onto the ground, my boots crushing the snow and ice beneath me. I let out a sigh of determination, my breath filling

the space in front of me with icy air and tickling my nose. Slamming the car door, I charged toward the chapel, my head held high. I

ignored the snow flurries rushing toward my eyes and nose. Hushed voices filled my ears as I entered the solemn doors. Women

stood off to the corner with their husbands, watching, as the Deacon welcomed me with a smile on his face. I held my chin higher as

I walked past, not bothering to brush the snow from my leather jacket and feeling drops of water trailing behind my black boots

onto the floor. As I arrived at the font of holy water, I stopped abruptly. The small pool was clear and beckoning. I looked up and

noticed an older, veiled woman with graying hair, who reminded me of my Italian grandmother, standing at the back pew, daring

me. I could almost hear her tongue clicking in disapproval. Waiting, I held my breath and closed my eyes, as I boldly plunged in

and grabbed the water between my fingers. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked squarely toward the woman while I touched my

cool forehead. I rubbed the water across my face as if to cool myself off. Grateful that I wore the red sweater with the plunging

neckline, I generously dabbed my chest and the crease between my breasts. The old woman gasped as I smiled. Brushing my black

hair behind my shoulder, I pranced to our regular pew toward the front of the chapel, ignoring the disapproving stares while the

piano hammered out How Great Thou Art. Something was different, though I couldn’t tell what as I looked around at the

comforting painted ceiling of the Garden of Eden, the dark stained-glass purple windows, and the figurine of Mary

that I prayed to for guidance each week. She was smiling at me today. I heard moaning coming from the large crucifix toward the

front of chapel. He was looking toward me, taunting, arms outstretched in pain. I stared transfixed and in rapt attention until the

Deacon made his way over to my side. Kneeling down in my usual praying position, my jeans and jacket still clung to the curves in

my breasts and hips. He smiled at me approvingly as his fingers brushed my knee and squeezed my inner thigh, a waterfall of

warmth running down my spine and between my legs. I closed my eyes, feeling his breath hot against my neck as he leaned in closer

to welcome me to church. In the front of the chapel, the leering crucifix smiled and began to laugh.

Wanting
by Stephanie Parry

Human flesh touching, exploring, loving
Bodies colliding in mellow rhythms from the music in their mind

Standing still, time becomes something tangible
As they manipulate the minutes into memories

Their nervous laughter becomes blissful moaning,
As they create a masterpiece on the sheets beneath them

Smiling, kissing, touching, tasting, holding
Sharing newness, aching, wanting, releasing

They roll together as one, exploring new depths of desire
Giving into the passions of the night

Ocean peaks of ecstasy are reached
And they stroke each other back to the shore

Recovering in a pool of sweet juices,
Still wanting, they begin again

You See Me
by Stephanie Parry

You see me
in the morning
when I look in the mirror, blood shot eyes trying to wake once more.

You see me
when I am running
a song playing in my ears, thinking of you.

You see me
in the shower
washing the places that your fingers and mouth have tenderly explored.

You see me
in the evening
reading a story to my kids one more time.

You see me
on the cell phone
sending you one more message.

You see me
deep inside my mind
the thoughts and feelings dumped onto the page.

You see me
when I smile
love pouring out of the lights of my eyes into you.

You see me
when I dance
my body moving to each beat in harmony.

You see me
with one last drink
feeling the dark liquid slide down my throat.

You see me
as the tears come
and fall down my face, one after another.

You see me
as I lean back
feeling every part of you deep inside me.

You see me
silently scream
as I reach new heights of ecstasy and wonder.

You see me
hold every part of you
in my hands and mouth, wanting to send my love into every pore.

You see me
look into your eyes
connecting to your soul, as we ride the wave together.

You see me
shudder and collapse
into oblivion, wanting to hold you close to me again.

I see you
putting together
the puzzle pieces in my head.

I see you
reach for someone,
to help in their time of need.

I see you
wishing and wanting
to be alone with your thoughts.

I see you
lean into the fear
the whirlwind blasting all around you.

I see you
holding on for dear life,
the storm swirling around us both.

I see you
wanting to run away
and reaching out all at once.

I see you
holding your breath,
looking for the perfection.

I see you
as your heart opens
and pours out light into darkness.

I see you
and your smiling eyes
seeing me.

I see you
and your wounded heart
loving mine.

I see you
seeing me,
seeing you.