HIS PAD

Afterwards he wraps me
in a thick and thirsty upscale
silk-monogrammed towel
branded with a tiny handwoven label
no washing instructions included
but
I want a bargain-counter thin towel
one
that I can slip between my toes
wind into the crevices of my ears
dip into my belly button
so
I'm pretty sure that
one day the His towel will still be His
but the Hers won't be mine
because  I know now
that one of us will always be
don't you see
a little,  just a little
wet
behind the ears

Doris Kasson

If you've any comments on her poem, Doris Kasson would be pleased to hear from you.