David’s Nipples

on Sunday after church I took a walk
so I could discuss your nipples
with the friendly woodpecker
who visits the birch tree
to turn its bark into torn paper

but now the woodpecker fails to pull its conversational weight
earlier this morning the woodpecker was helpful
describing the swan’s superimpositions
the eschatological underwear

laugh tracks served as euphoria-inducing punctuation
de Chirico waxing Calder
in the metaphorical washroom
near the not yet bloomed orange roses

we advanced the discussion to Dr. Kildare
licking little glassine squares and affixing
collected stamps to their mausoleum book
as if I were the obstetrician and not the undisciplined annotator