Wrong Rock
Wrong Rock
by William Merricle
the morning star vanished in the daylight
three French hens became serpents
the sniper burst into song
a cavity shrugged its shoulders
an equinox orgasmed dolefully
seven swans were dressed and eaten
one thing led to another
great poem
should write a golden book of folk lyrics with me
Disconcertingly adverse images (parodying the Twelve Days of Christmas) lead to a shattering of expectations accumulating to a “wrong rock,” whose shambles maintain a pristine well-defined elegance.