Tonight's Poet Corner: Log Cabin Romance

Log Cabin Romance
by Belinda Roddie

When she draped the flannel across my shoulders,
I felt my conscience grow weak, floundering
at the tips of my index fingers where normally
I'd be charged with electricity. I asked her,
"When can we go hunting again?" and she replied,
"Hush, love. I need to clean the glock,
and once it's confident, we'll load it
so we can eat venison on our honeymoon."

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