by Glen Martin Fitch
I like to stack them tall
or end-to-end,
but then I dread
I'll find a dud I've penned.
Each syllable feels heavy
in my hand,
a sharp, slick sound
to pierce and then expand.
Like shrapnel
multi-meanings pack each shell.
A shot with match-grade words
set to propel incendiary sentences.
I use the slightly fraying phrases
as a fuse.
And oh, the satisfaction,
oh the fun to set with care
then hide the trip-wire pun,
or plant an ode or sonnet meadow
with no hint of hidden mines
of symbol, myth.
Believe me
no offense meant on my part,
but every bullet's
aiming at your heart.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011