Poem
Chris Edwards
Arrest me aura . . .
Arrest me aura . . .
“Arrest me aura who is it
who goads there? Who sends
shadows up m’ deep end?
Tweety? Pooh pooh
not, friend — not
knowing where the bodies get ferried
disturbs me sometimes. Oh, it’s you lot.”
Out here on the symbolic prong
there’s a bar with loud music
burying beef, lettuce, pickles, mayo
and hundreds of miles of fried bread.
“You can dance attendance if you
want to, old salt,” cajoles
egghead.
who goads there? Who sends
shadows up m’ deep end?
Tweety? Pooh pooh
not, friend — not
knowing where the bodies get ferried
disturbs me sometimes. Oh, it’s you lot.”
Out here on the symbolic prong
there’s a bar with loud music
burying beef, lettuce, pickles, mayo
and hundreds of miles of fried bread.
“You can dance attendance if you
want to, old salt,” cajoles
egghead.
© 2007, Chris Edwards
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Publisher: First published on PIW,
Poems
Poems of Chris Edwards
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Arrest me aura . . .
“Arrest me aura who is itwho goads there? Who sends
shadows up m’ deep end?
Tweety? Pooh pooh
not, friend — not
knowing where the bodies get ferried
disturbs me sometimes. Oh, it’s you lot.”
Out here on the symbolic prong
there’s a bar with loud music
burying beef, lettuce, pickles, mayo
and hundreds of miles of fried bread.
“You can dance attendance if you
want to, old salt,” cajoles
egghead.
Arrest me aura . . .
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