E Liri

Something I wrote tonight.

I don't often write poems this short, or without rhyme, but it's nice to break out once in a while.

E Liri
(On behalf of L.T.)

Four fingers curled to palm,
Thumb folds them within.
Raised above in defiance.

A shake for emphasis.

Index extended,
Pointed accusations.
A hole stabbed in reticent air.

Never mind the fairies.

Thumbnail resting behind incisors,
Now flicked forward.
Literary gauntlets thrown.

Let the dance begin.

P. R. Robson
Monday, 21st February, 2011.