Two Irish lassies in trouble with the law
the Church lays down like a dirty carpet.
Two ladies who love two men who listen.
Beauties with a need to take life straight
now they’ve reached, seventy and sixty-eight,
the beginning of yet one more new life.
Two Irish belles who drove men wild,
who still love to romp and grow wild in bed
with these men they chose from the crowd,
one writing this, the other working to save
humanity’s planet–so far. Neither man
can live without their brush with beauty.
When Senora Clarke dyed her hair blonde,
her students confused her with Marilyn,
not Senora Kilgallin blonde from birth,
who shapes, bakes in the kiln, her riverware–
while my wife reads what I write and cooks
our food, makes love, and watches over me.
(1 January 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander