The Long Slow-Burn Fuse Is Lit Poem by Stephen Brian Brady
The Long Slow-Burn Fuse Is Lit
and morning came
and on the terrace
traces of the imprints
of gauze-stockinged feet
the long slow-burn fuse was lit
trembles
from
showers
towel-rails
mirrors
is squeezed from toothpaste-tubes
the waitress
ruffles her hair
lately pressed inside a motor-scooter helmet
they listen
and wait
wait and listen
crazy for the first clink
LIFT-OFF! !
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/4/2024 2:55:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
