In something like the way a buccaneer
Might pillage up and down some verdant coast
By flying friendly flags 'til he could veer
To catch his prize intact with just a boast
Or threat, my handsome friend takes hearts.
He flies that smile, and even some who know
It well are taken twice: the ocean's charts
Map fewer tricky tides than those that flow
Between those hard, half-hidden teeth. He shoots
A perfect inch of spotless cuff, then loots
And plunders every woman's eyes, and sinks
Each man's idea of manhood, while each one thinks
That everyone can see what should be done
About that beast of shadows in the sun.
If you've any comments about this poem, Marcus Bales would be pleased to hear from you.