exposing through a bottomless foxhole the kitchen carpet carpet glue linoleum linoleum adhesive ply wood sub floor boards above the cellar ceiling cellar floor geo pitch and plates he'd somehow augered through and stood there on his hind legs, drawing on his gloves: chrome and citron -- I didn't know him. He held a ferule. It was blue for music. He was virgulate himself, leaning toward me: a rust-red slash between worlds. Copyright © Margaret Aho. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) A SAD, SAD STORY by MOTHER GOOSE THE TRAMPS by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE IDYLLS OF THE KING: DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON KEATS WAS AN UNBELIEVER by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE ON THE YANGSTE KIANG by BERTON BRALEY |