Today's poem is by Angela Vogel
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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