Today's poem is by Susan Wheeler
She was a pistol. And heremember him, Ray Ray thought
he was too big for his britches. She was full of herself too but it was
Colin who wanted to live high on the hog.
Your father thought she was pretty spiffy.
In the garden the burdensome riot unfurls in the
heat, in sun, in shade, while you lie on the bench
in a sweat.
Well, they went bloody blue blazes through their last dollar before
you could say boo.
Copyright © 2012 Susan Wheeler All rights reserved
University of Iowa Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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