Paul had a sudden craving
for land mines.
He thought it might be
the temporary crown the dentist planted
where his canine tooth
broke and was reshaped.
His fortune cookie suggested he learn
to suffer with dignity.
How, he wondered, was he suppose to do that
when his direct ancestor lost the garden.
He loitered in the wilderness
on a frozen meadow that stretched to the horizon.
An Arctic Fox approached him
and offered to take his confession.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
postscript
I went through the 2019 posts to this blog site, selected what I thought the best poems and created a book. Amazon Link to Book.
Umflop 