Miss Pinkie Poetry

Miss Pinkie
lay beside me
in her double bed.

In the lounge
Mahler still played
on her record player.

We lay drying
in sweat.

My husband
was never
that attentive
she said
whether he was
with his bits
on the side
I don’t know
he never said.

She kissed me
I drank in her body
as we drank her scotch

Where’d he go?

Don’t know
and don’t care
she kissed my chest.

You speak good English
for a Scot.

She smiled
I tried to rid
myself of it
in the convent.

You were
in a convent?

She nodded
For a few years
went in with a cousin
she stayed
I came out.

I kissed her
left breast
Glad you did.

She held me close
and whispered:
Don’t think God
was impressed.

We lay until Mahler
ended in the lounge.

I got up
and getting
ready to leave
got dressed.

all credit goes to original author