A yam because, a yam.
The barest stir of skulking Jobs.
Iambic gauze, I am.
The bare ass stare, the blinding strobes.
I am because, I am.
The barrister in silken robes.
one hoary serving
ladled up in
luminous white porcelain
bordered by a streak
of burnt umber
slipping under
the gray dip of
an afternoon evening
little mother
has another
mouth to feed
dirty words
curds and whey
traces of milk
stain satin and silk
need a wet nurse
curse breast feeding
breeding makes
bouncy bosoms sag
tough titties
Kotex in the plumbing.
Cherry bombs down the john.
Pennies pitched in wishing wells.
And quiet flows the Don.
Precious Lord, help me find my way back
to happier times, to redeeming pathways.
Help me stay warm against the long knives of Winter.
Help me be strong against the thousand blows.
Restore to me the sight and sound, the touch and smell
of a HoneyLove nibbling my ears with these words:
"No matter how long we live, I couldn't love you more
than I do at this moment. You are my own true heart."