Wet a goblet. Rub the rim. Imperfection
sings. Run the faucet until water bellies.
Professor X praised surface tension years
ago as I dozed missing how matter bellies.
Ninth month. We wait, oafs on a sofa;
loaves and fishes in our tauter bellies.
I skim the Geographic: Wallaby stashes
joey in a pouch to flee from predator bellies.
Glossy poses: rage bulges from baggy
camouflage: behold, child-soldier-bellies.
Grin and spar: Re-enactors mock-make war.
Who volunteers for Pieta, Gold Star bellies?
Wind lends drama drapery for agony and bliss.
Wind groans or coos to mother-martyr bellies.
Perfection song: Your turn to be round. Ring true,
Verandah. The tongue in this bell never lies.
For shock and awe
three centuries ago
Swedish cavalry broke
moose to the saddle.
stalwarter than a warhorse--
to gallop into
pikes and fire.
gun-shy as the trees