Clothes that scrawl and sprawl
across this chaotic concept
of bagged domesticity.
I blue electric anger
thrown at the wall
to zap the gaps of gender
to hear your football roar
the short shorted flesh
all too hairy, thick and loud,
the sickening shouts
gyrate the sounds
that grope the satellite dish.
Male bonds male
through grunting walls
and men with balls
hump these halls
of my screen(less) sensitivity.
Howl one more try
and how I try, so hard as not to listen.
Yes I am strewn
the floors I've been
in all these times I've packed.
My clothes that scrawl and sprawl
fit inside
the compromise
of a torn domestic bliss (all plastic and deafened).
Author notes
I wrote this in looking at these clothes strewn all over my bedroom floor neither here nor there cascading out of torn white bin liners here is one use for them. No this is not finished but I thought it may be useful to someone somewhere at sometime.
Written January 22nd, 2006
A contest entry
- The Poetry Hack by Nicole Hanna.
400 points, ended January 30, 2006, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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I love the places where you take domesticity. I also miss you so very much Stella. Gee, I miss that constant contact with someone intelligent and on my wavelength. Hope that you are well. Tony.
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There are a whole lotta words in this poem that ping at me. I feel like a victim of a drive-by, and I mean that in the most appreciative of ways. lol. Wonderful poem, and it has not escaped my notice that it's a new write. Kudos for that.
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