by Martin Willitts (07/09/08)
Him: I wonder what would happen if I smudged buttercups on my wife's nipples
Her: the hand water-pump gushes water into my open palms like my husband this morning
Him: the wintering birds follow their migration just like my hands follow mine to her naked behind
Her: when I shuck peas from shells clinking into a metal pan until the bottom disappears filling to overfill it is like unbuttoning my blouse for him
Him: she holds the zucchini & looks oddly at me
Reader Comments
Martin Willitts Jr is a published poet and visual artist. He is not the male in this poem, nor unfortunately does he know this female. For more of his work, see Slow Trains.
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