print previewback DAN ROSENBERG
Sonnet
What the woman what the churlish night
undone the pompadour with fingernails
a dress of sewn Skittles a slow unzip
a brimstone of lipstick pantomime a hey
who trundles whose bed under heavy touch
me there ribbon down the spine unfurled
in sweaty squint the mystery has puddled
to a thirst I’m chewing over a thigh a breast
a stop it tickles tympanum it shakes but
who the hearing who in vertigo unraveling
the flesh is hair to flesh is under thumbs
indigenous terrain foster-fathers of our own
making makes this vista undeveloped ours
breaks my mister in a deep of flowers 
