Epigamic Presense Poem by Francesca Johnson
Epigamic Presense
Rating: ★3.5
Put on that sark with flambuoyant print.
Buttons undone so we get a hint
of taut, rippling body, brown from the sun
(or as you would call it 'the currant bun')
and atop your head, made from a roo
your battered old hat, such a part of you.
Hands on the tiller, Soft Machine blaring out.
Epigamic presense. That's what it's all about.
Monday, November 17, 2008
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4/24/2024 12:56:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
