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."
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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