Thursday, November 30, 2006

#221: November 30, 2006

She got the stems, the gams, the set of wheels,
Start at the floor and right up to her ass;
The slippers silver, ruby, made of glass,
The stockings leave you wondering how it feels
To trace that line, that seam joined at the back,
Old-fashioned, like they drew on in the war--
Nylon was scarce--what did they use it for,
Those soldiers? Secret pantyhose attack?
It doesn't matter--Christ, it makes you choke!
A cuff of lace around the upper thigh,
Right where you'd like to cuff a wandering hand--
Black silk obscuring firm, plump calves like smoke;
Her heels inflame the boys, you understand...
Just listen to 'em burn as she walks by.


Serena Joy said...

Oooo, I love that! It feels very noir but makes you feel really good at the same time.

_the_analyst said...

Dear Sonnet Boy, I like this one.
Nylon attack--how clever!
I must admit I much admire
Your sonnet-year endeavor.