How Moos the Honey
Ross Howerton
For Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Whoa, do I rub bees? Let me curdle whey.
I knock knees to drudgery, beastliness and rights.
My sponge won’t leach, when stealing midnight
For the bender of buying some uncanny trance.
I oval number three on the list of every dog’s
Top exquisite feeds. By gunpoint or panhandling,
I evolve teeth for melee. As men bathe in delight,
I volume burly deeds. Running in a hedge maze,
I leave glee on the mission, stuttering muse
In my cold briefs, and with the wilderness’s kiss,
I over-heat near that dove I dreamed to noose.
Through stolen constraints, I lasso her—bungees,
Zip-ties, even cords of blinds; and, if she snoozes,
I’ll nuke a bag of buttery popcorn for brunch.
Ross Howerton is a poet and educator. He has a BA in literary studies from The New School and is currently pursuing an MFA in poetry at New Mexico State University in Las Cruces, where he teaches writing. His work most recently appeared in the Naugatuck River Review and * 82 Review.