Pen
searches for my hand,
plaintive, insistent, persuasive.
Hum-voiced, it whispers
its sibilant pleas,
promises loyalty, explaining the mating,
speaks of multiple births,
unending fertility
and precipitous ecstasies.

I
reach for my Pen,
exhilarated, anxious, absorbed.
Vibrating my need, I whisper
my tremulous pleas,
promise devotion, seeking wedlock,
reveal willing productivity,
eternitied fecundity
and perpendicular rhapsody.

Pen
reaches for my Hand.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 9/27/03