Lust After Hearing About Another Lewd Photo
Perils of reading nude in bed—paper cut on my nipple
just now and can’t help but think of my local congressman—
boy, would he get a thrill and we could understand
each other over cooling coffee, exchanging
swaps of giant ego through cyberspace, never touching.
Oh, I’d send my best shot: Victorian secret push-up &
G-string bikini (looking good après Atkins diet) circa 2001—
you know, late in the year, a toasty California November
when sudden meteor showers rained Leonids all around
and we found that enormous fireball like a pumpkin spitting
orange sparks ... ahh ... and in the fantasy we’d talk poetry
not politics, the thick nuances of nouveau alliterations
annihilating me in slow-cadenced seductions...
then I’d add something spicy like I kissed a girl yeah
like the hip little songstress crooned. I was marooned
in red silk and Australian chardonnay, I’d say, hey
what about global warming, this really dirty air?
Kallima Hamilton studied at the University of Idaho and the University of San Diego.
She currently lives in Michigan where she’s a literacy tutor. Her poetry has appeared
in Shenandoah and Sugar Mule.
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