Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, August 5, 2012

The Trollop Goes Fishing

by Christine Nichols

At nineteen, I made a fisherman.
Your nuclear perfection
needed to be mine.

Smooth skin unstretched
unlike your growing womb,
dangled a silver lure.

I picked up a red mini skirt,
played a game of peek a boo,
and one of hide and seek.

He fell for the glossed promise
of uncharted territory
for a while.

But in the end he was
less perfect for the journey
And I sent him back
to you.

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