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Doug Potter Jan 8
They gather under
the steeple, beneath
spire and holy cross,

when I run past on
Sunday mornings
especially when

it's sunny with
leaves budding
I think of lifting

the preacher's wife's
dress to her waist,
her eyes glued

to the sky.
Doug Potter Nov 2018
She loved **** early & too often
was her uncle Mike showed
her how doggies do it &

she taught me how
to howl into
the sky

loud enough
to startle
crows

cause them to shiver
from the oaks &

I loved that girl
who left town

a blue Chevy
it was, so
long

ago.
Doug Potter Oct 2017
Bus
Two Greyhound days
final bus
hair mottled

last step down
her deformed
leg like

a frost seized
cornflower
my sister.
Doug Potter Oct 2017
I encircled her waist
with my hands and
lifted her, not as
a trophy, but
to  kiss.
Doug Potter Jul 2017
Don't jump from
that three story
building,

woman with no
shoes and rag
dress,

wait until
it's on
fire.
Doug Potter Mar 2017
I am lost again
beyond the hills
where we made love

under the South Dakota
sun in the wide, wide
open as the wheat

lofted toward the bluest
of June skies and we
rolled and rolled

into an indifferent
world forever,
forever.
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