Adjectives
by Sharon Owen
I am in love,
I confess it.
Those bad boys banished
by modern critics
draw me like a fly to sugar,
moth to flame,
tick to a hound,
you bet.
I've been caught,
nabbed in the act,
running around way past curfew
with those rebels in black
leather that crowd around in gangs,
roaring their bikes, overwhelming
a slim pure line,
but,oh! having read "their
sinuous forms wove together
like twisting ropes of
windblown smoke,"
I can't resist. But,
I will be chastened.
I will try, honestly, to pare,
I will prune,
but, oh, those rascals entice me.
