Sacrum 

Lover, 

every time 

                           I’m awash in fresh wonder 

at the skin 

                           at the base 

of your back 

                           It’s not what they call 

the small, 

                           the part turned 

cliché 

                           to show a woman 

yearns 

                           when a man’s hand 

                                                                                      hovers 

just above 

                           her backside, resting in the swoop of her 

waist. 

                           Can I summon 

words 

                           to describe the softness found lower down 

your back? 

                           The skin that mantles your sacrum 

                                                                                                                exceeds 

all down 

                           all pelage 

                                                       all silk 

all milky flax 

                           all burnished leather 

                                                                    all other skin 

as my slipping fingers 

                                                                                circle 

                           tracking holy surprise 

Jules Chung (she/her) writes poetry and fiction. She is the daughter of Korean immigrants. She writes about gender, family, and middle-class joy and malaise. A 2021 Finalist for the Pleiades Kinder-Crump Prize and the One Story Adina Talve-Goodman Fellowship, Jules has been published in Catapult, Jellyfish Review, Armstrong Literary, Lumiere Review, Quince Magazine, and the Public Menace poetry anthology “The World We Want Is Us.” She is the 2021 short-fiction winner in the Chestnut Review Stubborn Writers Contest.

Jules lives in New Jersey and is working on a collection of stories. She can be found on Twitter @andthewordwas, Instagram @glorifyandenjoy, and at juleschungwriting.com.