I can’t seem to shake this triangle poem infatuation. They’re impossibly fun. This is installment three…

Fiddle Faddle

Crunchy bits stuck between teeth,

my jaws ache from chewing,

The bowl sits empty

and I am sad.

How I wish

I’d saved

some.

Cowgirl Stomp

Boots at the ready to dance

and jeans too tight to move;

hair so big it leans

but legs so long

and nimble –

dancing

still.

First Love

When first this heart was stolen

from its haven of dark;

began a journey.

Latent this love

came wanting,

warm and

still.

First Love Lost

When first a mind is stolen,

then starts a tale of blind

and foolish dullards;

bent on seeing

things that may

once more,

nudge.

Highland Women

Lain atop these grizzled breasts

are shoulders built of steal

with muttoned buttocks

and ham-like calves;

envy of

highland

men.