a poem by Joseph Farley (1 of 2)

Holding The Whore's Ass

We could dance like this
with my two firm hands
grasping her derrière,
but who has time to dance
in the maelstrom of locusts?
Bullets bounce off walls,
horrors blast from the TV,
but here I have something
true and warm to hold onto
while driving the blue hours
away for a few moments' joy.

© by Joseph Farley

 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #10 ~ July 2010    next poem