An Unassuming Playdate – Sonia Beauchamp

The beige of her blouse is the same
as my living room carpet
minus the stains of spilt sippy cups and dirty feet.

Modest beige fails to hide breasts
swimming under waves of creamed silk
and the faint smell of spoiled milk.

The sash that’s knotted beside her throat
does nothing except ask
for her high-collared neckline to become

undone.