By David Kowalczyk

Like its Aunt Badinage,

it has the mind of winter.

Like its Grandfather Persiflage,

it has the heart of a sunset.


Its five tongues

are all like babbling brooks.

It will pick at your brain

like a robin at a worm.


This word is red, blue,

and yellow, like

young girls when they dance.


David Kowalczyk lives and writes in Oakfield, New York. His poetry and fiction have appeared in seven anthologies and over one hundred journals and magazines, including Taj Mahal Review, California Quarterly, Istanbul Literary Review and Maryland Review. He has taught English in Changwon, South Korea and San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, as well as at Arizona State University.  He was founding editor of the late Gentle Strength Quarterly.

Comments are closed.