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December 10, 2009 by The Citron Review

Paul Handley

When you say the screw top
Red is sacred, having been
Consecrated by you in private,
I hear communism is dead.
When you remove a chair from my
Unoccupied table, save me, sans
Asking, I feel akin to a sacred violation
Of my coffee break.
When you shake my hand
While clasping my shoulder with
Your other claw, I want to roll
Your fingers with my manly paw
To hear the sound of dry twigs
Catching fire.
When you envelope yourself in
Arms of a self-hug, I want to pat
Your head without the inherent
Patron of inferiority clouding us.

Paul Handley spent a career as a student and a student of odd jobs.  He has an MA, an MPA, and is ABD.  He has driven a cab and sold meat door-to-door.  Paul has work included or forthcoming in Apollo’s Lyre, Boston Literary Magazine, Ophelia Street, Poesia and others.


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