I plucked a rib off his chest
And made a maid to cook for us.
But she plucked out another and made herself a mate.
Maid and mate eloped hand-in-hand
And rolled in the hay
(Because they tripped and fell in it as they had also eloped leg-in-leg).
My man’s thorax may lack bones
But his chest stays rigidly firm with pride;
My bra may lack underwire but I’m not spineless either.
I rose to the occasion (I also jasmined while at it)
And became maid of honour myself.
I now await the bouquet of wild Welsh sunflowers
The coffee beans were soaked in rum casks:Food can be imported, books sent across seas as touching rituals Maps marked, distances measured distances gazed into Exact times in each other’s countri