YOUNG MASTERS

by January 24, 2012 0 comments

Unblurred to one and all
spoiled bodies
ridden by each-word-a-blow tempers,
thundering outhouse, porch and stairway.

When they’re unlatched
ringside seaters squinny.
He swigs hold-and-corner methadone
backstage of bins
while she drags the truth of her face
into see-red mania.

editors note:

No need to don your magnifiers to see this bit of
relational hide-and-seek, the poet makes it perfectly clear. – mh clay

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