Tonight's Poet Corner: Sonnet Solstice #91
A Nitwit Stole Gold Teeth
by Belinda Roddie
A nitwit stole gold teeth from a brass box
that my dear wife kept on an old nightstand.
He found a way to break through seven locks
and stuff all twelve molars into his hand,
balling it up into a fist. He slid
across the slick linoleum, searching
for a container with a matching lid
to hide his new precious metals within.
My dear wife marched down the stairs with her old
sword cane, the snake head nearly hissing at
the stumbling oaf. Sure enough, all the gold
dropped from his hand, and, like a frightened cat,
he scurried off. He had done the trick well,
but my love with a sword was Nitwit Hell.
by Belinda Roddie
A nitwit stole gold teeth from a brass box
that my dear wife kept on an old nightstand.
He found a way to break through seven locks
and stuff all twelve molars into his hand,
balling it up into a fist. He slid
across the slick linoleum, searching
for a container with a matching lid
to hide his new precious metals within.
My dear wife marched down the stairs with her old
sword cane, the snake head nearly hissing at
the stumbling oaf. Sure enough, all the gold
dropped from his hand, and, like a frightened cat,
he scurried off. He had done the trick well,
but my love with a sword was Nitwit Hell.
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