by Lindsey May Stone

Created on: June 12, 2008

Barren Poles

He leaned just so
Straightening his dry, grey bulges.

He sucked in his breath
Set on keeping all of this to himself.

He tamed his long, shuttering lashes
Waiting for the sting of a hundred razors.

He ran on cracked, pearl-studded pads
Cursing his excited tail.

He bowed his deceiving ears to the dust
Humbling himself before the crowned king.

He planted his precious ivory between the ribs
Accepting the knives,
Which peeled the sagging, leathery tent,
From its poles.

Learn more about this author, Lindsey May Stone.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.