Hush for the father who hears all--
she whispers apprehensively
bated breath hushed in the half-light
Can't you feel the moonrise, a sign
the divine sun arrives soon, a real new man?
he says. His whispered "S"s,
whistles in the silence, asymmetrically
trouble her essential secrets,
stirringly choke her clean little horrors.
Such presentimental presumption!
she says, shutting her eyes against his stare,
teeth gritted in tolerant joy;
her pillow bears the words
SLEEP MOON END NO --
writhing over her stone hair
he squirms to read them but sees
only SLEEP and NO.
poem written by JASON PAUL FOX.
You
MUST credit my authorship when reproducing this poem in any way!
Violators are prosecuted, no joke!
I'm living off the generosity of plagiarists now!
(It's OK to give my poem to friends or people at school, if you credit me and
don't make money off it)
copyright
2007 Jason Paul Fox