Stephen S. Yeandle

Rookie (New York, NY)

Brat - Poem by Stephen S. Yeandle

Beckoning green
bedroom call.

A silent stipulate
for undress.

Soon your
howling at the moon.

Animal testimony
rips the night as
clouds blow by the moon.

No longer here nor there;
life suspended briefly static,
explosively returns.

You don’t stand a chance.

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Roald Dahl


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 19, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, February 15, 2011

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