A Modern Rapunzel

Poetry by | December 21, 2008

I admit: I did it
not the witch.
I hate my suitor,
Who still lives in middle ages.
He doesn’t own a cellphone,
doesn’t know what a car is,
and doesn’t have an inkling
how to court a woman like me.
Everyday he rides on his horse
from his faraway palace up to my fortress
just to utter words of the same idea
all over again.
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Of Cigarette Butts

Poetry by | November 9, 2008

A cigarette butt fell from his fingers
after all the sparks, red and hot,
had been blown away
by the rush of wind.
The acrid smoke,
his mint breath,
the ashes,
together.
 
Then his hand pulled another stick
like the way he picked girls
threw them away
then and there.
 
—- 
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