Compounded
She penknifed the backseat
of the Buick roadmaster
for every fibbermeister, who,
poring beer and mewling
semen, had cupboarded her
there, his no-neck bulk
necktying
her down;
the upholstery popcorned
beneath the slim
chokeheld blade
like hookworm turned
to foam;
if a seat could apologize, this vinyl
would be on
both knees,
but it had
no knees.
*****************
This is very much of a draft, my number 8 poem for April National Poets month, for the wonderful Kerry O’Connor’s prompt on Real Toads to write a poem using some compound words.
The drawing is mine, recycled and not quite right for this, but I think I have to recycle drawings this month! Note that I am trying to return comments, but if I miss you, let me know.
ManicDDaily 
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