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.
