Tuesday, January 6, 2015


Who knows what lesson a lover may bring. Take Jack, who caressed my naked stomach and said, "My, I sure do love your fat little belly."

My fat belly? Surely I misheard. Surely he said, "Flat."

But later, bare-skinned before my mirror, I had to admit that my flat belly had mysteriously disappeared.

Like my once brown hair 

Like my wisdom teeth 

Like my days dissolving into decades.

from the author of PRICKSONGS: Tart Poems from the Sixties