Some whistles

Some whistles do frighten me like
That policeman’s whistle when I jaywalk,
That lewd whistle from an ill-mannered man
Pestering a sexy woman is another thing,
It is so demeaning, unkind, uncalled for
Some mean order like a teacher’s whistle
On a P.E. class to start an exercise in school
Or a kindergarten teacher whistling children to fall in line,
But one whistle really so intrigues me,
The whistle of a young man outside the gate
Of this house, on unholy hours of the night,
While I am writing poetry, this guy whistles
And whistles some curious songs in intermittent notes
Like a love song of a nightingale,
So sensual, so seductive, so magical, almost
Three times a night three times a week,
Till one day, my domestic helper got confused, and comes for my advice,
Why her stomach is mysteriously bloated.

You guessed it right, that magical whistle made her pregnant.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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