Four Tines Blind
Feet climb nine steps and four
Feet bring him to my door
Hands pry pine wide
Push chair aside
Begins to chide
I cannot hide
Hand grimes a glass of wine
Hand grasps a fork and knife
I whine and cry
I ask him why
Mouth speaks a lie
He picks my eye
Line of tines clear no more
Line of tines makes it pour
Tongue probes my eye
Jelly globs fly
I feel him sigh
I want to die
Feet take him to my door
Feet climb nine steps and four
page revision: 8, last edited: 26 Jun 2022 15:13