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Click here"Quel'heure est-il?,"
He said to Fifi,
Knifing another
Twist for his scotch
As Fifi on cue
Barked once at the clock.
Inserting a middle
Finger in ice,
Peter stirring
Imagines cocoons
And larvae that pupate
Until the full moon
Unfolds the butterfly.
"Open wide."
"Yes, she did
But not I......."
His hi-fi needle brain
Scratches tonight mel-
Odious love sick tunes
While Peter, sick,
Sucking on rind,
Sits down,
Down, down
With her letter left there.
I read Angeline's comment just before starting to make mine. Wow, she's good, because I read your poem and absolutely loved it and wished I had wrote it. lol
It's a very interesting, quirky narrative. I like your word choice, and you are obviously very aware of and careful with line breaks. I need to read more of your poetry and think about it to comment more specifically (my failing, not yours), but I think this is good stuff you have here. Have you read much of Wicked Eve's poetry? It might interest you if you haven't because you have the same kind of edgy-quirky tone here (imo)that she often uses. :-)