Joan Roberta Ryan
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Picture

Gluttony and Vanity Were Always My Sins 

My vices came to me early--
when my grandmas delighted aloud 
at my dimples while feeding me
blini with berries and schlag or treated 
me to butterscotch sundaes at Schrafts. 
And they coalesced in the ice cream
dresses
both grammies bought me
for birthdays--in mint silk or strawberry 
organdy—even more scrumptious 
than the cakes in Ebinger’s window.

By my teens, I was addicted 
to dimsum and sushi, top grades 
and things of this world--like red 
winter coats and long earrings, oysters 
on half shells, off-Broadway plays 
and Toshiro Mifune movies. And you
hooked me further, as soon as we met,
on compliments, fudge cake and 
cheeseburgers after we studied, stories 
of travels to China and Crete, caresses 
I thought you'd invented, and the feel
of your soccer star body against me 
once we dove into bed.

So please don’t tell me it’s time to stop 
buying new cashmere sweaters, coloring 
my hair or nibbling dark chocolate 
at midnight. Just lick my fingers and 
whisper I want you again. 
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