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Click hereWhen his fingers touched her breasts,
her ego left for Omaha—
by the night train, the one with all the stops.
The body that remained was like that statue in the park,
the one the lightning struck, scarred
a little from the bolt and always strangely warm.
I don't see a single spare word in this poem that needs removing. You say so much with so very few words and I admire your skill. Thank you for sharing your poetry.
wso
Well done, but I think it should be listed as erotic; at least it is for me.