by pushkine
I love, love, LOVE this! A lovely poem and a perfect foil for that trigger, I've agonized over it for weeks. Colour me green with envy at your talent.
Tess
"She was a milliner
with birdlike bones/
who swept my mats
religiously. Her boys were rough,/
but they were boys, and grew into
young men who mated early,"
Before and after didn't sit as well. But I'm a noisome epigrammatical poet anyway.