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a poem by Kate Powell Shine
WEATHER
She snaps a whole peanut in her mouth,
shell and all. Your nerves crack
between her molars and you think
about giving up the role of shock-
proof, sullen blob, consider pinning
her against the counter. Oh yes, she's cute
in her negligee, but you've
already stumbled in and out of your third
decade, leveled twenty-one with a rolling pin
and come out flat-plastered, ready
for adulthood. Now
she skanks around the kitchen, dancing
on your resolve to forget and next
thing your throat is making guttural
whinings, your tongue swells and lumbers
around words, and what are you
saying, something about
the recent thaw, the way the daffodils
fought their way through patchy snow,
oh God, you're talking about the weather.
She's batting at fruit flies, picking bits
of lint off her chest. You trail off. She
smiles, heads back to the other guy's bed.
shell and all. Your nerves crack
between her molars and you think
about giving up the role of shock-
proof, sullen blob, consider pinning
her against the counter. Oh yes, she's cute
in her negligee, but you've
already stumbled in and out of your third
decade, leveled twenty-one with a rolling pin
and come out flat-plastered, ready
for adulthood. Now
she skanks around the kitchen, dancing
on your resolve to forget and next
thing your throat is making guttural
whinings, your tongue swells and lumbers
around words, and what are you
saying, something about
the recent thaw, the way the daffodils
fought their way through patchy snow,
oh God, you're talking about the weather.
She's batting at fruit flies, picking bits
of lint off her chest. You trail off. She
smiles, heads back to the other guy's bed.