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New York LAss
by Timothy SomersShe takes small bites,
like not wanting too much taste
in her mouth,
and chews the same two teeth,
thirty-eight times.
Measured, clocked, with
lost grandmother approving.
She wont talk while chewing,
wont chew while talking,
like her sex,
not wanting too much passion in her mouth,
lest it take her digestion
out of order.
She took small bites,
of me.
I left.
02/25/2005 Posted on 02/25/2005
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Sarah Graves on 02/28/05 at 09:01 PM Interesting, bold piece. You tie it together nicely, especially with the two last lines, I thin that was the main idea.. of something taken from you. Great read. |
| Posted by Sarah Graves on 02/28/05 at 09:02 PM *think, sorry. :) |
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