If only the knees were a part no one sees.
The only good knees are the ones that are bees’.
They’re knobby and bony and children’s are scabby.
Their one saving grace is at least they’re not flabby.
The tease of an ankle aroused the libido
of Victorian gents in a garden gazebo.
But not so the knees, the knees could be thrust
right into their faces and not arouse lust.
Some people have fetishes focused on feet,
but someone who fancies the knee, you won’t meet.
To fantasize, focusing on the patella
has all the appeal of a bout of rubella.
Not one person brags of the shape or the size
or anything else that would dazzle the eyes,
nor is there a line of the finest cosmetics
designed to enhance the knee’s homely aesthetics.
I’ll say it again, knees are knobby and bony.
To think it’s not true would be just plain baloney.
Hence vis a vis wardrobe, this must be my stance:
I cover those knees up with long skirts and pants.
Pam Lewis is a retired psychologist living in Madison, Wisconsin. Her poems have appeared in Poetry East, the Journal of Humanistic Mathematics, Lighten Up Online, and other places. She has not been the same since she learned about dark matter.