This week my little mentored girlfriend
fashioned bride and groom from clay
she elaborated woman dressed in gown and crown
with juicy big blue lips.
When she, as preacher, bade them kiss
the maiden’s mouth hilariously stuck to his.
The home she had her groom build for his wife
of gingerbread-like cardboard frames
was erected, dressed with paper snow and candy canes
façade appearing youthfully adorned
colorfully embellished like a song.
This week my piano touching buddy texted
from afar by way of self-rebuke F*** ME
emphatically NOT meaning that ejaculation
quite the way I would have liked to see.
Yet I could drink a case of such an ambiguity!
He did mail long-anticipated plastic discs eventually
enclosed—I hold—those potent harmonies of mutual perception,
delight recorded of a past still present in our sound extraction
bedecked with malleable spirit’s tone
radiocobalt given lip within this poem.
Copyright 2014, by Catherine A Lee. All rights reserved.