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For the Kid Whose Loud Music Disturbs Matins

Appeared in the 1999-2004 issue.

Your music boasts
of dead women, objects
to be played with like dolls.
I don't need to hear
you rant about what she
does with your underpants.

If I had the booming stereo of God,
I'd play you:
Maybe Jimmy Swaggart, pre-prostitute,
banging his piano.

View bio information and additional poems published in Half Drunk Muse on the author's main archive page.

Copyright 1999-2008 Dyan Sandefer.