We sneak through brambles,
and peek behind Maple leaves
to watch my brother, her sister,
on the wide, flat, stone--
discarded by the Wisconsin Glacier,
too awkward for New England's
shores--now the centerpiece
of this Pennsylvania clearing.
Lila and George, their bodies
bright with summer, practice position
number one from his new book,
"The Joy of Sex." Two hundred
yards away I hear coos
from the hen-house, my hands
still warm from collecting
the brown eggs of unsuspecting hens.
We watch rock grind Lila's spine
and splinter her tailbone. The petal
shape bruises, inside her pale thighs,
will bloom tomorrow.