This is from one of my manuscripts I'm working on.
The working title is Other Archer.
And Laynie hadn't heard some of these,
so I want to read some for her.
This is a love poem to my husband.
His name is Tony Torn.
So it's called "Torn."
And it's an acrostic of his name.
One.
To start off something in a peaceful way,
or stay hungry, hunter.
Now we'll study in your Chinese bed, stretched wall to wall.
The rain muffles the noise of my foot on the stair.
Rain, lightning, thunder, next to my
How and Why Wonder Book of Trees.
Two.
To walk in the scholar's garden.
Attention, you did me good.
I passed up near those trees many times.
It is time for a condensation overcoat puzzling evening.
Torn is rent but not rented out.
Articulate.
Three.
To you my punch drunk love, I only cling to your neck nape.
For yonder prism guards are tonsured.
Transcribe oracular missives, rain ravens, and rave non-stop.