I dare greatly to post this. It is on my part only a work of speculative fiction. Part 2 (and maybe part 3) will follow in short order.


I’ve been a tingle all day,
I wonder if he’s noticed.
I’ve been flirtatious, attentive, cool by turn’
but the drought has been so bad
he can think of nothing else,
the wheat stands barely two inches high,
if we get no rain this very night it
there will be no crop nor farm–no life
My plan is just plain desperate
If it comes to nothing a fine fool I’ll look
or, if it comes to another pregnancy
It could cost me my life: Desperate,
yes, but it is all that I can do,,,
Besides its more than month
since we made love and I’m horny.
Yes, it was after Jeanie’s wake,
we were both shaken to the core
By her messy suicide so soon after Herb’s.
Both more than half cut too –
It wasn’t very satisfactory.
That is another thing, I don’t want
my daughters to find their dad
hanging in the barn, like Herb’s did.

Roy comes into the kitchen wearing
an old pair of boxer shorts, drying
his hair. I look in his eyes, a chill
goes through me, defeat lurks there.
No going back, I untie my robe,
provocatively, I hope, I hold it closed.
A younger woman might have dropped the robe
And stood naked , but after seven pregnancies
and four live births, subtle understatement
seems the way to go. “Coffee, tea, or me”.
I’ve got his interest. His eyes tell me that
He drops the towel and steps to me
I kiss him fiercely on the mouth my tongue
questing half way down his throat.
He tries to pick me up but I dance away
leaving the pink robe in his hand. “No,
not in bed. Outside, on the ground” “You
crazy?” I pirouette, “YES!”. Then I run for the
door. “Come back here”. “Catch me”
I am out the door and running across the yard
Will he follow? He must to follow.
God make him follow...