Lori Boulard Poems
Comments about Lori Boulard
My Hot Black Love, Or, Ode To Java
HIS name? Please. What man
among us lives solely for
the touch of your lips
and the “mmmm” that oozes
only if he’s really good?
No, my love is ready for me
waiting patiently for my
Soothing every injury
Smoothing every edge
Offering clarity in a blurred existence
Inspiring me to face my fortune
Mi amor, unlike mi men, judges not
the words of my lips,
travels impeccably well,
and sets my heart’s pace each
and every morning.
and he’s calling my name.
Not Another Smoking Poem
Sunk in my seat in a meeting at 3,
in a chair better suited for interrogation,
I officially sign off my attention
and jump visually out the window.
I spot smokers lingering below, and envy them
as a child watching fresh falling snow
from an overheated classroom.
Just one drag, I dream, to reassemble my parts.