…Fogbound

By Joseph Hesch

Talk to people about the morning fog and
most will don yawning expressions of
“who-cares?”
But write a poem about the fog…
how it comes in on little burglar feet
or cools some of my savage need for her…
and half the who-carers listen to you
like your words were custom-made for
their souls’ troves of tropes, touching
their aching emotions like misty mythic balm.
The other half don’t even bother
with the who-cares. They will turn and
run from your metaphors
like they’re cannibalistic similes,
leaving you with bare air between you and
the embarrassment of artistic pettifoggery.
But, in the one-half who listens,
who peers through the low-lying vapor
of your words, you realize
being a poet is twice as morning cool
as being a meteorologist.

© 2012 Joseph Hesch

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4 thoughts on “…Fogbound

  1. Oh, I LOVE the words “little burglar feet” …lol …and the sentence underneath? Rrrrrrr…..being a poet is seriously cool! Love it, Joe! 🙂 xoxo

  2. Man, you got the gift for writing. I agree “burglar feet” is something to fall in love with regarding your poem. You pulled it from that magical place reserved only for your authorship. Nice write!

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