Monday, August 13, 2018

225/365/Poetry and Form

American Fantasy in B-flat

My ponderous breast
lying there on my chest
being sweetly caressed
on some lover’s quest
for a bit of the best
does not protest
to being undressed.
But I can attest
that if you molest
this ponderous breast
I shall have to arrest
and simply suggest
that if you’re obsessed
with the physicalness
that you have assessed,
then I’m not impressed;
for you have a regressed
to a state I detest.
But now we’ve redressed.
I feel refreshed.
Yes, I had guessed
before you confessed
that the care you invest
toward my ponderous breast
isn’t merely in jest
but chock-full of zest
that I won’t contest.
And now that you’re pressed
to my ponderous breast
I have of course yessed
to all of the rest.
And would you move west
to my other breast
so it too feels blessed
in being caressed?
Let us divest.