*/Flash Poetry/*


Ron Singer

Originally published in The Evergreen Review Issue 122 in March, 2010.

/ He lurks in the station /

of imagination,

dark, dank, skanky,

waiting for the trainful

of readers to appear.

He stands at the ready,

then whips open

his trench coat (dirty)

to display

the trenchant figure,

the erect iamb

and oratund spondees,

mega-meta-physical conceit,

the vehicle of metaphor.

Then, he whirls around,

lifting coattails to show

the flaccid, bumpy field,

the saggy butt end, the O,

that constitute the tenor.

“That should get a rise out of

those sleepy tabloid-suckers!”

Down the platform rush

the Keystone Prose Cops,

brandishing their critical nightsticks.

Coat still open, he turns to meet them,

smiling, unabashed, erect.