Sunday, November 8, 2015

That Was Good Salsa

In a sad tobacco voice
I stepped into class
A trumpet was scrambling
back to its seat.
More importantly
my wrist, laid open
by a butterfly wing
caught it.
I have seen this before
but never
with the eggy film
that covers the whole
celluloid.
The whole story
like the last line of a classic.
I will never return to you
though you did taste good.

at

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I don't care what this poem is about. Who doesn't want to talk about good salsa?

November 12, 2015 at 6:33 PM

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Clever with Chalk

  Remember the morning   I came down and convinced   Us we were dead? Being too early And too quiet to prove otherwise  We believe it And a ...

  • Finally You
    Last night we finally got wind of the new greeting card. It sounded like shrimp head or lunch pail. But those are things of profound sadness...
  • For A Few
    For A Few I am not a carpenter And this is not a religious poem So just forget your prejudices For a few. As I was saying I am not a carpent...
  • When This Happened
    her backed dropped like apples through the bushels of the outdoors. I didn't have the skeleton for it but I walked up to her and tol...