“Raw”

My wife
Who has never written
A poem
In her life
Wrote me this poem
Today
After I got back
From the gym
And had my hair cut:

“Raw,” it began.
“Flesh.
Skin.
Tight jeans.
Raw, raw, raw.
Roar, roar, roar.
Row, row, row.”

When I asked her
What she wanted
To call her poem,
She answered,
“Raw, obviously,”
And proceeded
To bite
The tip of my sleeve.

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