poem #3

(i know, i know: again, technically not the right day. but, again, i'm still awake, and i just got home 20 minutes ago, so deal.

also, this is slightly risque, so, i don't know, whatever.)


like oranges on a warmish afternoon
peeled carefully with slices dripping
eating section by section with juices dripping
we made love
under the oak by the stone wall
in the far corner of her parents' back 40.
after i came and she came,
when we were sprawled out
on our backs in the grass
she let a moment pass
before she rolled onto her side
leaned toward me and sighed and asked me.
we were married the next spring
under that oak.
we spoke our vows before a section of trunk
with our initials carved in it,
and a date.

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