We will now have
midday repast
and a servant
will become for a while
not completely nude
and in feet bare
shall hasten her steps
that shall make her simple cloth
dance on her shy dash
to the garden and pluck
green leafy stuff she can crumple
in her moist palm and scurry
in for the daylong drip
off the boards and shortly
thereafter return and shuck
the cloth off and curly
spindles will smell
like the spring that bounces
from cloudy rebound
when she’ll come to rest
on this leg and wait
while we reload the batteries,
thumb the switch so the pack
of power hums and that blessed scoot
jimmies quasi-repose
and upon this erasure
comes the turn to get to the thing
about the form of the nude knoll,
atop – the form in taut recline
on the knoll… okay a form
so espied tautly reclined,
topping atop….Straddle
perchance? Anyone? – okay
the form – the form so espied
did not straddle the nude knoll…
the knoll so purported. And see. See.
A supposition did indeed
purport – revelation
wheedled in no sneaky hand
and did not slide or tuck
flimsy fabric aside,
thin as the fabric was
and yes damp as that
borderline see-through
screen that could hardly
be much barrier as little
as it is, as knoll and form…
so espied are all part
of cream tarts baked
in secret bakeries.
Timmy the Scribbler 