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


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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s