Life was dull in 1976.
Dad had to read “Ivanhoe” and write a report.
Sex was not yet Mom’s favorite sport.
The only rhyme that came to mind was “dicks.”
Mom was somewhere north
of the Mass / NH border.
She was just following an order,
not calculating its moral worth.
She was on vacation
feeling unclever
and not happily after ever.
He promised to wait
for her return to the state
of eternal temptation.
— Molly Arden. Painting by Duncan Hannah (“Honey Trap”). Poem published in Coconut.
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Author: The Best American Poetry