Jeff Connelly Poet I do not know?

Go Figure

she petitely
sits in my
kitchen

now is my
chance to
fulfill her

hips to
begin
with

an antipasto
then secunda
as i maniacally

in my mad man 
laugh make 
her prima

all the while
vino rosa
flowing

the pesto is
made with
out pine

nuts but
pumpkin
seeds

as i feed
her between
closed mouth

mmms
her eyes
the size of

dinner 
plates
but

wait
as i wipe
her lips and chin

there's still
dessert
and a

final toast
with cold
lemon

cello
to your
wealth

health and
happiness
i rub her

belly and
burp my
baby

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