He’s slinging and winding-

Breaking and grinding.

A body twists in its metal cocoon.


Slick and rubbery,

stripped and blubbery,

its stench pervades the room.


Now, he’s blown brittle gasket

In his vexed bread-basket

From building this brown-stone tomb.


He did what he coulda

If not what he shoulda

Too much, too fast, too soon.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s