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Overmire

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a Poem



 

Time
Stands before me clicking his teeth
Winding his wrist
Ready
To punch out my clock
But I�ll beat the old bastard
Licking his lips
Watching the seconds drip into file
From the meandering folds of his mellifluous beard
His whittled cane
Throws a roundhouse curve
Crashes into my youthful flanks
Saps ten years at a single blow
But I�m a dancing demon with all the moves
No tottering cuckoo is going to lay me low
Ohh!
A lucky punch to the midriff there
(And my digestion ain�t what it used to be)
Ah!
The buzzard�s beating my back with a broom (named Bing?)
Swept away my dashing days
I stoop upon the threshold now
Ooch!
A fiendish jab of his knobby knee
And I sound like Wayne Newton.
No more old crock
You�ve done your worst
Just give me a second to catch my breath
Wham!
The knockout punch
My head reels back
Heart skips a beat
Cracked spine quivers
And I see stars
I�m down for the count
He thinks he�s won
The villainous coot
My bones are dust
The coffin�s shut
But I see stars . . .
And oh, what light!



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Copyright �1999 by Laurence Overmire. All rights reserved.
Originally published in Along the Path
Published in Poetry the Write Way: Webstatic � First Journey (Sept. 2000)
Laurence�s biography page