As in a quick call to battle arms,
the season to the helpless
never seems right. Nor flush
the snares of dog pile charms
do much for the victim's
keen hindsight.
It's not so much that language is dead
past praise and heckle and anybody's guess,
but we haggle over price and strength
of our mountains emotionless. . . .
As the first verse is repeated for good measure.
[ 2006, Wheeling, WV ]
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment