by Jim Benz

Don had never seen her so
Irate, a fury of words
Scorched with indignation, sizzling on the iron
Hotplate of her tongue, frying
Earfuls of rage, and O those spatulate hands
Searching, searching for something to throw.


Author's Note: published in Shakespeare's Monkey Revue

Posted on 05/21/2007
Copyright © 2024 Jim Benz

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