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Wobbly on his feet
Rossant

Smokey's out from his porch
 1
the smell of magnolia resplendid,
 2
unfinished fried okra with cornmeal
 3
and a smouldering clay pipe,
 4
maybe too much hooch.
 5
He ain't fully composed,
 6
a bit wonky on the ground.
 7
Those special damsels are nowhere
 8
to be seen
 9
maybe his portly silhouette goes
 10
to a finer delicacy elsewhere.
 11

4 Oct 13

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Go to the top of the class with this finely wrought poem
 — larrylark

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