Dedicated to Dr. Richard Geist

More Snippets

The time I sat in your lap and felt
the curve of the mole under your shirt. Then my hand
went south
to the flaccid place in your pants.
I walked out. We never got the chance
to talk about that afternoon when I was the spoon
in your gravy.

The time I brought in a bone, and wore
the metallic collar like a dog. You walked me around
your office on a leash. You’ve yet to tame the ravenous
beast. You only think that you do.

I called you naked one night I couldn’t
sleep. You were sleeping soundly in your bed all alone
with your telephone. You answered it in a pleasant voice,
and called my name and said how happy you were
this August night when I woke you up under Maine
moonlight.

After my biopsy you packed some ice for my breast,
gathered in a paper towel. I pushed my shirt down and
placed it there. Ice-cold warmth from your hand.

Our one-year anniversary. You lit the candle. I split
the chocolate cupcake right down the middle. You
poured two glasses of organic milk. We drank/we ate
on the couch, celebrating, what else? The two of us.