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Jed Denning Poem
The bags that sag under glassy eyes are purple
black. His face is downward drawn with pencil neck
and bow bent back. Devoid of chest a mass of thinly muscled
bone and flesh. He strokes Mary Martin at a soirée
by the garden wall. She sings lilacs to hummingbirds
as rainbows rise and fall. She whispers wonders wrapped
in riddles wove in layers, her looks, her touch, her smell,
at a soirée by the garden wall.
Copyright © Jed Denning | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Jed Denning Poem
She saw him walk on their hats,
a bold rat swallowed by the fat man.
His screams bounce back as their windows
close with thuds that echo.
Who turns their back a child cries
zigzagging down the steet into oblivion.
Sally Martin sits on her beggar's seat
and listens to the bleating sheep.
Sally Martin bites her coins smiling when
they crack her teeth.
Copyright © Jed Denning | Year Posted 2013
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