A Triumph
This woman, renowned redoubt, said to
Never suffer fools, held up a wall at my
Friend's party. Solitary, looking bored,
But striking in an emerald gown, her dark
Hair hanging loosely, she aroused an urge
To climb in me. Rather than approach in
Haste and be brushed off, I reconnoitered,
Plotting my best path past boulder fields
Of evident disdain. When I did draw near
At last, she showed no sign of seeing me.
I gazed at her impassive face, and asked,
“Okay; what's so damned funny?” Caught
Off-guard, she stared at first, then laughed.
“You are, you dreadful man.” Small talk
Followed, and, in time, I prised her from
That wall.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2022-06-22 at 17:38




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