the golf balls scatter like buckshot
around the fountain with the mermaid. She'd like to duck
but can't, any more than she can
wear patent-leather slingbacks, paint her sea-lips
hot pink or Sedona orange
or color her tail like the Fruit-Loops mascot's beak.
She's stuck with grey--
respectable grey, the stone tradition. You know
she resents it.
Be careful if you land a ball in her pool,
her teeth are sharp.
--word salad
Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside
Monday, October 28, 2013
At St. Andrews
Labels:
free verse,
poetry,
wordpower
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