On Mother’s Breast

We strolled along the sandy beach,

      I caught her fast and kissed her;

She blushed e’en like a Jersey peach,

And cried out with a smothered screech:

      “I said I’d be your sister!”

“Excuse me then,” I cried in glee,

      “I’ll gladly be your brother;

The heavy rolling of the sea

Bore your answer away from me,

But, for relation’s sake, you see

      I guess I’ll take another.”

Sept. 3, ‘90

Pub. In

Camb. Press