Umbrella’s lighter offshoot

Wendy Sloan

is an attorney living in New York City.

Her poems have appeared in journals and ezines including Measure, The Raintown Review, Blue Unicorn, and Mezzo Cammin.

She was a finalist in the 2006 Howard Nemerov Sonnet Award Competition.

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Size Four (To the Lady Invariably Seated on my Left at Lunch)

Yeah, right. A salad. Well I should have known
this place got girls pared down to skin and bone.
Now while I’ve polished off a full-course meal,
you’re still content to munch that lemon peel
hung on your water glass. Take some more sips.
No love handles obscure those skinny hips.
They’re sharp as salsa! Girl, you’ve got some edge.
Splurge on another cut cucumber wedge.
Do I indulge too much? I’m half-way through
dessert, you’ve taken all that time to chew
up one tomato. Hey, give me a break.
Your vanity is just too hard to take.
Still, I find solace thinking of the dread
your man feels when it’s time to climb in bed.