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.