I feel the “eee” in the cupboard’s creak–
every last “e” of that god-awful squeak.
It pierces all ears and betrays my sack,
notifying the world of my impending snack.
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry on September 21, 2017.
I feel the “eee” in the cupboard’s creak–
every last “e” of that god-awful squeak.
It pierces all ears and betrays my sack,
notifying the world of my impending snack.
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry on September 21, 2017.
