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.