Tambourine Poem by Tom Goff
Tambourine
Let me stroll coatless, even though January sun
set. Sleeveless tee. Wind, ratchet across my
goosepimples the way I once made slapslat
fence drum, trailing a stick. Loose gusts
flick birdbath, lawn water. Licked
thumb over tambourine: rrrrrrrrrrrrr
across parchment. Shivers
crawl arm. Get set, skin, to receive
─ slap! ─ the whole cold percussion,
drumhead, ring, and jingles.
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5/1/2024 10:28:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
