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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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Scott Thomas Summers is a professor/teacher of literature, writing, and philosophy at Wayne Hills High School and Passaic County Community College, both in Northern New Jersey. Much of Scott's poetry finds its foundation in the hills and forests that surround his home. Via his poetry, he hopes to capture what is easy to see, but often difficult to notice. Scott's work has been published in a variety of journals and he is the author of three books. Read an interview with him here.
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anne.lehman2929@att.net:
Oh, what a sensuous surprise!
Posted 09/26/2014 03:50 PM
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Jo:
My husband loves this poem. I do too.
Posted 09/26/2014 01:14 PM
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Sherry:
As far as relationships go, the final three words say it all.
Posted 09/26/2014 09:19 AM
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erinsnana:
I love the journey from the kitchen to the bedroom...very sweet! Sometimes, you do get what you want.
Posted 09/26/2014 08:33 AM
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paradea:
Sounds like definitely being "in the soup". This resonated big-time.
Posted 09/26/2014 07:20 AM
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poetronics:
Very fine work. I know this poet from an on-line workshop. Always excellent and I see he is even better with time.
Posted 09/25/2014 11:55 PM
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