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 HeadshotRoss 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.





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