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Flinched
I flinch at the growl
Of the junkyard dog
And his hot breath on my neck
It is a cinch
He is going to rip me apart
If his chain has one more inch
My butt would be in a pinch
I'm praying that chain will clinch
And lynch
That devil dog
Just outside those snapping jaws
And under those razor claws
Back over the security fence
I hope no one saw me flinch
The junk man is
In his office space
Laughing as that Yorkie
Licks his face
What Makes You Flinch Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
5/29/19
Copyright ©
Timothy Mcguire
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