Rainteeth
I am so mean I have metal teeth.
When I don't feel like chewing
I have the rain come and slash
my enemies' skins.
It's raining. The black of the asphalt
shines out in the day. I hail acquaintances
across mud puddles with the point of my black
umbrella. Collars up to their noses, hats
over their eyes, they back away. The sky overhead,
the inside of a scoured kettle, is slowly lowering.
Soon my meanness and me and the rest of us will be
empty spoons rattling in a kettle.
Arts Indiana, Vol. 14, #5, June 1992
Wow!
Phyllis
Posted by: Phyllis Wilson Moore | June 28, 2006 at 12:21 AM