EGGS WITH MILKPoetry doesn't have to rhyme;It is just an excuse to get womenTo denude themselves,A subtrefuge built upon peoniesAnd prodigies, wherein...coiffed hairResembles topiaryClipped with forearms turned to shears,Trees' limbs and rootsAre identical as mirrored souls,And women seep and flow in wineServed before its time, as in a pictureBy Jerry N. Uelsmann.THE MALE GAZEA pearl from a necklace of the sameCan become disconnectedLike an arm or leg; in place of an eye,Such a stone has luster. A moment later, he placed my bra on my lap. Shit! It had probably fallen down while I was sleeping. He must’ve seen it. This was really embarrassing. I should have kept it in my bag. Oh damn. He probably thinks I’m a slut.I didn’t look up at him for a few minutes; thinking in my head what to do. I wanted it too, but didn’t want to appear slutty. The air hostess walked by checking up on everyone, before she also retired to her seat.He leaned in and asked if I was ok. I didn’t know what to say.. More

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