Oh, a speech about feeding my children
is wasted on me– tell my back,
tell my pinched-in ribs about books,
about every monstrous book I can shelve
between collar and pelvis, nestled in
ridges of skin while I’m horizontal,
upholding each page to remain fully frontal,
mammoth-size tomes I can read with no hands,
the whale of a tale I’m going home to handle
when you’re looking at me on the street
talking about the wrong Dick.
Day 189 – The Wrong Dick
The 365 Poetry Project 
Very clever. Ha! Love it, we could 4 poems at one time.
I’ve been away on vacation, so you know… time to catch up!