Sorry, Charlie

 

If it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.

                                                                                         – Charles Bukowski

 

Sorry, Charlie

 Poems don’t
                                   burst
       out of me.

 They pinch, prod and poke me,
                       grope for
                               me in the dark.

 Just like
the time I watched an old man
tweak the ample bottom
of his gasping wife
as she hoisted her way
up dockside stairs
for a Nantucket ferry
on a squally day in October.

 I still can hear her young-girl giggle
as she swatted
                             blindly
                                     at fumbling fingers.

 Then gripped his hand
and wouldn’t let go.

Honorable Mention – Roanoke (VA) Branch of League of American Pen Women 2009

 

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