10
oh, please
your fantasies of me may include:
a mirror and underwear and groping, or
a half–eaten popsicle and sticky fingers. they
may mention my fluency in some exotic
foreign language that is mostly likely
french, or my sheer willingness and
ability to punch out a guy.
140 pounds. in end – mind, bone and
flesh, just that, and cast not more than
inertia. still, the unwinding of our shared
imagined scenario proves itself as i
continue to dare you to resist;
challenge or victory are met with only
so far as we may reach… at small lengths,
there, the whole time, abiding patiently
whatever duration they may be
confronted with.
do you follow me? yes? well – stay home,
tonight, and count your blessings. i want
a realistic sounding integer from you
in the morning. love poems are
antiquated.
Iris is a twenty-something
native of the midwest.
She lives and drinks and writes.
thats all, nothing to it.
