The Bulb
Edison bulb
Instine formula
calling bet’s
to the last three
a crazy intense formula
with pimples wild
set up now golden age
it was like a deck of card’s
down to the last three
with a gofey pimple on top
what appears now
what happens now
the last two heads
now he says drink
he wants you gone
YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SPRING
Copyright © Coy Bothwell | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment