The woman says, “Lordy, Lordy, I wish I was forty.”
She is rolls of things. She sings like Aretha, louder than the choir.
I wish she was mine.
She sweats freely. Her pillbox hat bobs like a red boat on her hair.
Her arms are meaty waves.
She has a son.
She touches his dress shirt at the spine.
Her fingers are thick,
a protector’s hands.
She never turns to my pew. She just sings, belts it out.
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State. His writing appears widely in print and online at such places as PANK Magazine, Anastamoo, The New Flesh and also http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.