funny poetry

she might have known it in the earlier spring
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
as i lie roofed in, screened in
there were three in the meadow by the brook
with her hair flaying wildly
as a naked man i go
lady, your heart has turned to dust
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
i know what you're going to say
therefore i may not