poem #42

miss carols dumplings 3
 
MISS CAROL’S DUMPLINGS
 
Every month or so
on a Sunday afternoon
I skip the football game
and get in my truck
and drive out from the city
into farm country
to visit Miss Carol
and get my hands
on her plump dumplings.
Biggest I’ve ever seen.
Best I’ve ever had,
terrific with her
legs and thighs.
When she lays out 
her chicken dinner  
on that white tablecloth
I start drooling before
I even get a hand on it.
A farm girl, she says 
she’s never met 
a man like me
so nuts am I
about her dumplings.
Usually, she says,
men like breast meat,
when it’s moist,
and I allow how I
like that as well
but not as much 
as her plump dumplings
on a Sunday afternoon
and her pluperfect
legs and thighs.
 
– Donal Mahoney
 
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