Night as a hooker.  Delightful the way you work the metaphor.

Rick

For He-who-must-be-obeyed

If I have to be pissed
at someone on Valentine's day
I'm glad it's you.

lol

Rick

Epitaph on a Tyrant       
by W. H. Auden

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

Yep, that's great.  Looks like it just fell off your tongue with no work involved!

Submit it?

See submit board...

Now that was clever...Talk about wish fuilfilment :)

This one is definitely in flux -

Tale of the rebel cent

Some time before 1982
an errant copper planchette
jumped the strike,
avoided inspection,
and just when it was sure
of a reprieve
got bagged and dragged
into the banking system
where it was forced to serve
shopkeepers and customers
who paid its worth little attention.

Sans Lincoln,
the blank-faced middleman
in every transaction
remained un-oxidized—
the solid copper core
of American life
until, with no confederates
to block an advance,
it was conscripted
by this sometime
numismatist


(So, I got a solid copper coin blank (planchette) back in my change the other day. Considering that they stopped making solid copper pennies sometime in 1982, this little piece of copper has been doing its job unheralded for 26+ years. It's something to think about.)

I really like this, Lavonne.  Not only because I have never see the word numismatist in a poem before, (in fact it's many years since I've seen it anywhere) 

"Just when it was sure of a reprieve" is a bump for me, and you could lose "where it was"
from line 9.

a rainy day of course

are you buildin' a dress
he says
when coming upon her
at the sewing machine
or
Wednesday unless
it rains
when asked
the day of the week

he always smiles
knows it will come
cause it always comes

he waits for it

waits for it

What'll it be
if it rains

your He-Who-Must is growing on me, el vee.

That's a vacation, that is.

She listens to his sermons every Sunday
but doesn't donate.

Hell, she says,
they're collectin up money
to go save souls in Montana.
I mean, what does that preacher think-
they still have bones in their noses out there?

God takes a plane ride

i am in the car looking up
at the plane
imagining myself in the plane
looking down at the car
i bet i know where you are going i think
oh no you don't comes the retort
damn

The land that holds me

breasts rise
wait to suckle children
verdant body falls away
toward the future
stone toes tickle streams
cool breath dries my brow
with her I sleep
well

old buck and biddy
walk in the evening
he remembers
the storms
the years when
no acorns fell
biddy clucks sympathetically
plucks a fat beetle
from beneath fall leaves