Tempest Brew- Three Poems

Rooms & Tables

these are the

rooms and tables

and the sand floor

where we were

when we heard

the worst news

this was the place

you sat next to me

wordless

because you were

inept

Manners

it's not kind

to put down figurative

language;

it's like my ass

hurting;

imagery need bear no

grave insult

nor kind of attack;

the bulwark of metaphor

and the transposition

of you onto object;

lest we be chained

to mediocre dialogues

still bound by mistake.

Control Room

the way he talks

you can tell it's like

a little man sits inside

his head

pushing buttons like

Say and Apologize

and Leave