- Erotic Poetry
- Dough
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I wonder if I am worthy.
My bread dough breasts
falling over a grand belly,
ungraceful.
I listen to you,
for hours,
telling me of my beauty.
More affirmation comes
from Joni Mitchell,
the inspiration of all
homely women.
I count my blessings.
Search for solace
in the arms of chocolate
bars and another man.
Standing naked,
revealing my own sins,
I embrace
what I have forgotten.
I am the legacy of Eve,
the mother of all
dissatisfied girls,
confronting snakes and
treacherous gods in every
corner of paradise.
