Three Poems

by Michael Prihoda
recalcitrant waltz
the trees did semaphore
(or was that a strip tease?)
while greedy clouds
ogled their branches.
the reasonable sun
shook a fatherly finger at the whole affair,
knowing the moon would disapprove
yet never see 
this recalcitrant waltz.
make it holy
how do you (un)(a)(d)dress
a woman
and make it holy?
stop signs
committing roadside felonies
our wicker wheels stop turning;
city skylines through shattered windshield glass
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