Cautiously peddling towards
the house beyond the paved road,
the house every mother had
warned their brave children about,
I felt my stomach crawl up
towards my throat and sit, brooding,
rumbling like an angry cloud.
We stopped shy, picked blackberries
and licked our chops hungrily.
This was my first rodeo.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
bikes and gravel
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2 comments:
This was the result of the last exercise from the poetry class/workshop i took at asbury. RIP, class...
and yes, its my poem.
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