the beautiful woman in front of you
is not your wife
though you’d like her to be.
You woo her with bouquets
from the garden every day.
Weeping, weeping, weeping.
No wonder the oceans are full;
No wonder the seas are rising.
i close my legs. i’m starting to smell
like a woman and the other girls can tell.
they spread wide and bend forward,
breathe giggles into the floor.
plucking my eyebrows
he likes me
he likes me not
chocolate fondue
double-dipping
the banana
their candy hearts —
I swallow more
sweet nothings
a single boa feather
floats in the coffee —
the morning after
Discontinuing By Timberland on a Fleecy Eventide —Robert Frost Whose copse this is I speculate I get. His domicile is
