Poem Hunter
ES (August 7,1959 / Battlecreek, MI)


Poem By edward serof

After your last frost,
you thought the squash and bean were lost;
now coffeed up,
last e'en sauced,
for how the wife your Queen she'd bossed;
and ranted how you'd ruined the farm,
and 'lowed the cold to do her harm;
and you're fed up,
and fed the cow
the final straw
stuck in your craw,
white knuckles shoved up in your maw;
rotted teeth hit bone to saw and draw a warm red stain;

then, she, in a softer moment's pain
tipped your gristly chin to eye,
sensing how you'd gladly die
not to know that more drew nigh;
you take her hug and kiss her thigh.

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