- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Carrot Curls
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In a crowd of penguins
ginger tresses glistened,
dousing an emerald waterfall,
all velvet ā smooth as her ways
around the cold-hearted traps
laid out by the gentle order
of archaic huntsman clans.
Every thumb and finger
with a string attached,
conducting the many voices
of her family-career-orchestra
ā all but one ā
once broken, not yet set,
the second most right one.
The one that loved to be twisted,
not only around her copper twirls,
but longed to walk the colonies
of empty mountings that might fit
ā or one matching noble stone? ā
jewelry creating complement
to lift and soothe the digits' burden.
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