Late Night Poem
       

Better to risk, she says,
the whiskey's wheeze
and the throttle's urge
and a blonde
with curves
like tennis serves
than to wait as a sheep
for the chilling nap,
the buttoned breeze,
the pallid tap
of an autumn moth,
kept safe by glass
from the candle's breath.

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Copyright © 2021 Hailey Leithauser All rights reserved
from Birmingham Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission