Sonnet

 

by J. Michael Wahlgren

 

 

 

 

I rust like a heart

at         the end of the world;

 

You tell me to speed up the pace

endorse, too, smalls

 

If you want it, it’s a sonnet,

a sonnet if you wane &

 

line up like motorcycles,

The hairy ones gray &

 

With little attention.

Not prude.  Hills, deliver us

 

To the top where drive-ins

Wear virtue and movies

 

Where pain rips you

A tide sing you a verse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

J. Michael Wahlgren is working on a new collection of poems entitled, Duds & Other Works.  He publishes for Gold Wake Press.