The following poem resulted in my banning, for a period of one month, from PoetryCircle.com.
I can only assume they misread whom it was the protagonist endeavours to lure to his world?
I would appreciate any thoughts. Dean.
The Nana has the same
few grey among dark
as her granddaughter
has loose and sparse
foundation fur. Both share
the unconscious nudity of long time
naturalists. The child’s
nipples make shadows
above the abacus
ribs like an adult woman’s, and
when she squats to collect her
iPod, dropped off the earphone
from Oma’s’s tangled elbow,
I see her neatly folded like the
edges of fine cuts of veal.
Is the longing that she lights in me so wrong?
I’ve set a trap to get her near the van
with the music I have heard her mention,
I play it so that when she is alone
her interest will be channelled my direction.
I have alcohol and sweets, a omnibus
of Verse, a smile, and the barest
beginnings of an erection
for the tarpaulin
to block the afternoon
the copper ground underneath
the pines, here she comes, summer on
her square shoulders and grandchild
-free, to ask casually
if it is Stravinsky I am playing.