They listen to Mancini She cries, telling him How tough life has been For her--of exes long gone He gets the Kleenexes The fire is snapping and Roaring behind the grate He keeps touching her In different places Gently, that's why she doesn't Push him away He keeps peeling off items Of clothing A shoe, the other One sock, the other She feels she can't complain Too much He isnīt ugly. He's strong and virile. Pleasant, too, cause he says Funny things and did service. His Persian War photo is there, Framed On an end table He and some buddies He's comforting She always liked consolation Can't recall when she didnīt So she lets him Remove her blouse No hurry, no-- Then her bra Ahh She knows hers are nice Nice Cs they are She lets him And he does it Later, she isn't sorry He isnīt either Now she keeps seeing the flames In that fireplace. For crying out loud.
Dear readers, this is my third book of poems, and inside are a special collection of what have turned out to be not only MY personal favorites, but also the favorites of many of YOU. Some of these have never been available in print before...
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
"Framed"
A captured bird's eye view of intimate moments.
Great, have fantastic fun Randall.
Take care,
~Gwendolyn
Regis
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling