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Although I ask for chicken
choked with noodles as flaccid
as eels, a pot of split pea simmers
on the stove. And though I prefer
sneakers worn with puddle splashes
and autumn beach sand, polished
dress shoes loiter near the hope chest –
each stuffed with new hosiery: argyle
and cashmere. And when I reach
from the room’s dark corner,
trace my finger across the flesh
of your left thigh, you ask me
to grace your right. And I do.
© 2009 by S. Thomas Summers
Used with the author’s permission.
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S. Thomas Summers is a literature and writing instructor in New Jersey. The author of two chapbooks, he also conducts workshops for both students and teachers, using contemporary poetry as a catalyst to spark interest in unmotivated students. He writes because he believes poetry develops a keener appreciation of breath and, as of today, his lungs are clear and healthy. Learn more about Scott at www.sthomassummers.webs.com.
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