I'Ll Meet You In Congress Poem by Faith Wood

The music led me to the bed
It undid my dress
Instructed by the lyrics,
It followed the curves in a caress
And the beauty of it all-
You’re in my hands now.
My throat is undone
And I am completely unabashed.

Congress is meeting,
Discussing our habits-
How they are habitually unattractive
And unnecessary in practice
But we don’t outgrow the unattractive,
Rather it outgrows us,
Released in a cloud of vapor
And finally, extinguished by the sun’s rays-
All to the tune of a Beethoven Symphony

The final chord is played
And I fumble with the buttons
I don’t recognize myself in these clothes,
But it’s all there.
We’re familiar with the elasticity
(and not just underneath)
We can’t control the motions of our incessant teeth,
But when we wipe our lips,
It’s all there.