The Testimony
of Mr B.B.Wolfe

You see fur’s all very well
but it sure ain’t as fancy
as grandma’s sweet nighty
licking around my thighs.

So I slipped into the silk,
did the ironing, made the tea,
a right little housewife, me.
Even thought I’d go to town,

but people would talk
bout my ears, eyes and teeth.
All the better, I’d grin it off
and p’raps someone’d see
this ain’t sheep’s clothing.

You are what you eat, after all.


Katie Farmer

If you have any comments on this poem, Katie Farmer would be pleased to hear from you.