He favors my chin, and the egg of my accent
by brandychanning
so now, do I, I do,
he favors the the top of my breast ,
where the spaghetti strap leads
his eye lower, to the fulsome swelling,
curves he favors in a linear
world
these magnets of human flesh are
attributes of me, unsolicited, part
of my “collegial endowment” and
yet,
no denial,
this egg of my accent,
a fullness employable, knows well,
full employment
ah, mon oeuf d'accent,
the accent of my accidental,
for lives are just linear lines
warped occasionally, nicely.
swelling in wonderful frailty,
the curvature of the human
eyes, that draw curves of
human spirit,
^that are drawn by sprites
with wickedly humorous
insight*