Sir Edmund's Chin

by

Doug Larson

Jutting forth beneath his mouth,
not to the North, but from the South,
hanging there like kiwi fruit;
fuzzy, wizened malamute*
urges onward in the blinding snow.
(*Sure-footed canine Eskimo)
exploring southerly domains,
uncharted regions, frozen plains.
God could have put it any place;
his chin, the South Pole of his face.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Tissue
by: Jacee
from: Leeds, England, UK

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