Four Poems

Last Night She Slipped

from around
his little finger

into the
palm of his hand


Alcoholic, statuesque,
avid mental health consumer,
frenzied fan of the free clinic: Get in
her way and you'll know what "consume" means.

Once It Was

Once it was
their hair

their hands

toward: to
stay pretty

and/or preserve
the sight of

him. Now
it's the same

wind they walk
in, but their

hands are busy

their skirts

Spark Arrestor

as I try to ignite you
thoughts of him are blowing
open the curtains in your room

I am all thumbs
you are a Zippo in the wind

Pete Lee

If you've any comment on these poems, Pete Lee would be pleased to hear from you.