Karen M. Rice


Where shining green eyes sparkled ‘neath heavy black lashes,
now hang bags and sugs, underscored by dashes.

Where rosy, dimple punctuated cheeks once were, with freckles a-sprinkle,
there are two hanging jowls, each cleft by a deep wrinkle.

Where ruby lips once shone in their glory,
Now grow bleeding cracks, dark and gory.

Where once mounded alabaster rose, now lies a shriveled wasteland
underscored by pendulous drupes, dry and bland.

The belly, once firm and flat,
doesn’t know where north or south is at.

The mons veneris, once dark and curly,
now is streaked with grey from life’s hurly-burly.

Next is a moist and secret place,
hungering for a lost love’s embrace.

Then the thigh, tender and quivering,
in need of a lover’s kiss it is shivering.

The knee, that awkward joint,
a true love’s caress can ease the pain and anoint.

An ankle, tiny and nicely turned
can incite a man to rise, if for its sight he’s long yearned.

An arching instep, rising high
is quite as exciting as a thigh.

The last tiny thing to consider is the toe,
for women have not a brain, as men all say and know.