- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Dead Blooms & Dog Poison
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He bought these dead blooms and
Dog poison for his beloved.
Hands torn by thorns, bloodied.
Standing at her door,
Nervous perspiration trickles
Down his ass crack.
Visions of car crashes,
Train wrecks,
Sinking ships
Fill his sweaty brow.
The moments stretch on
Indeterminately. Seconds
Seem like minutes. Minutes
Feel like hours.
Waiting, heart palpitating,
Is misery.
Still, her door remains a barrier to
His hopes and aspirations.
Perhaps things would go better
If he knocked.
- COMMENTS
champagne1982over 16 years agoThis poem on the Archival Review thread in the Poetry forum. It is marvellous and laugh-out-loud funny at the end. Thanks for sharing.
LeBrozover 16 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,000 poems.
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