Today's poem is by Angela Vogel

The Claw

Swinger, come hither.

Gird yourself against my steel.

You'll shut my claptrap.

You'll pound my sand.

In me is your chance at Romance's

random number generator turned

verb, as in To Create

your own little-novice-In-truck;

to judge, descend, stick around

& manipulate joy.

If everything loose is a marriage,

everything tight is a wedding

carrying a bouquet of weld.

When the middle roaders come

they'll be light as kites,

the men stood like cranes

to get something olé.

Your escape clause? All fumble

trouble and out-louvered

luck. Mine? An arcane skill

of drag and tip. Love,

I've got the teeth for it.

Copyright © 2010 Angela Vogel All rights reserved
from Barn Owl Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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