Porcupines can raise their quills, turn
around, and run backwards into their prey.
Just when you think
you are done with it,
the poem turns on you,
charges back for more,
pricks you with its
finer points,
reminds you
things are not
what they seem,
that the past is not past
until it turns and shows
its sharp, uncompromising side.
©2009 Charles Ghigna
1 comment:
Very nice! I'll have to read this again.
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