Lust on the Line

Deep South v.3. n.1. (Autumn 1997)

Scarlet satin boxer shorts
swing on the line as if
at a playground.
They romp in regular
rhythm, their whole shape
is moving. This is not
just a casual flap.
The cochineal coloured socks
are full; aching with water
they can only manage
at best a strained flick
of the toe.
Crimson knickers though
are another story. They cavort
by the socks, fling themselves
sideways to flutter and flirt
with the boxer shorts.
Straining at the peg
for closer contact.