Do I address the underwear 
or do I address you, 
now naked pair,
whose underwear disappeared
into that oblivion of bed clothes,
as if to say there is no way
to put that apple back on the tree?
Maybe there is someone approaching,
a child that needs sparing,
or a lover betrayed?
But that, of course,
only makes the underwear hide harder.

Could you close your eyes
you might be able to see yourselves
just five minutes before,
in a tangle of elbows and feet, 
pushing your underclothes 
back in time, almost to the first day.
And now the price of that pleasure 
is an eternity of search.
Nothing free in indulgence
is quite free of consequence.

Check out all the work in the Collection: Occasional Verse