Amanda Tumminaro
Jiggle and Wiggle
It all gets more complex
when you sashay, now a little older.
The butt, it sags, the boobs droop:
Yes, I’ll take another slather of chocolate.
I could blame age and children,
but in truth, this garden is withering;
Oh, how the sloop used to slope!
Of course, I’m as celibate as the Pope;
That hat he wears looks fairly stuck,
not capable of drip, drop, or plop.
Nevertheless, is there action at the Vatican?
Only little boys entice God’s cop.
There’s still a beat in this old heart,
but it’s too alight in the dark.
Somebody shag the wrinkled prudes,
but women complain of being screwed.
It is our nature to be discontent;
Yes, slather on a bit more chocolate.
My middle now, somewhat spare,
I can only blame time and age;
But now, alas, I hang over the chair.
I am far inaccessible, me, myself, and I.
From the male continent, I resign.
Skin flicks are the Great White Way,
if each fine you agree to pay.
Skip the grains and oats, if you will,
for each cake is to be eaten with ease.
Yes, pile on some more chocolate please.
when you sashay, now a little older.
The butt, it sags, the boobs droop:
Yes, I’ll take another slather of chocolate.
I could blame age and children,
but in truth, this garden is withering;
Oh, how the sloop used to slope!
Of course, I’m as celibate as the Pope;
That hat he wears looks fairly stuck,
not capable of drip, drop, or plop.
Nevertheless, is there action at the Vatican?
Only little boys entice God’s cop.
There’s still a beat in this old heart,
but it’s too alight in the dark.
Somebody shag the wrinkled prudes,
but women complain of being screwed.
It is our nature to be discontent;
Yes, slather on a bit more chocolate.
My middle now, somewhat spare,
I can only blame time and age;
But now, alas, I hang over the chair.
I am far inaccessible, me, myself, and I.
From the male continent, I resign.
Skin flicks are the Great White Way,
if each fine you agree to pay.
Skip the grains and oats, if you will,
for each cake is to be eaten with ease.
Yes, pile on some more chocolate please.
Amanda Tumminaro was born and raised in the Midwest of the United States where she resides with her wonderful family. Her poetry has been published in The Non-Conformist Magazine and The Oracle, among others. Her first poetry chapbook, “The Flying Onion” was published in 2018 by The Paragon Press.