caterpillar moustache outerwear

slight medusa worms, only
orange, too fired up for fur
coats on mother martha
in her hat. he says, i have
grown more hair on my
wife's genitalia than seems
to be atop my white head.

she smiles because she
knows these are tree
branches in the water,
selective surrealistic
couples from 1948
or earlier, his lips
regurgitating eyebrows
and her feet growing
stronger with every inch.

a/n: cathleen on myspace posted a pic and asked us to write poems. this was mine.