Where once he had imposed a love of knees

When insults and wild taunts were sent to me
It was the grace-mucked ego of the man
He  climbed the titles of my poems like trees

Where once he had imposed a love of knees
Instead, he used bad language like “foregone”
His insults and mild taunts were sent through me

He followed me in a secret up this tree
He liked to  compound  interest, just for fun
He wrote my poems and tested my gee bee.

We know that hate  can cry and love can gleam
At best, he  varnished ladies  till  they shone
He consummated love with  almost  three

And yet he had his welcome dignity
He wrote real swell as if he were a  man
He might have caught me if I charged him free.

The closeness of a bond  can overcome
The hatred  that’s engendered being twins
His interest and his haunts were  agonies
He used the titles complimentarily


About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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