Sometimes a cheroot is just a cheroot
said Anna Freud’s lover, chomping a lilac cigar –
embers flaring like sunspots,
peony juice jetting into the spittoon

As brass as the reign of George V’s 
morganatic mustache –
where a century later on Hampstead Heath 
I pull hairs from the beard of Modernism 

Declaiming poems in front of her house
and biting heads and arms and legs
off those gingerbread men
of literati, history, badinage,

Stanching the wounds of PoMo amputees
with crumbs and frosting – 
while we carry on alive, unfettered,
in ecstasy of symbols.

For Shay’s Word Garden

10 thoughts on “Cheroot

  1. Anyone that can put spittoon in a poem and make it work brilliantly is my kind of poet Qbit!! I love, “I pull hairs from the beard of Modernism”! Some fancy word play with some deeper meanings that one can taste much like a gingerbread man, and lingers like the after taste of a martini. Brilliant as always my friend!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love the fantastic sense of irreverent freedom — “ peony juice jetting into the spittoon” — the carnival of the absurd, the smorgasbord of taste and sight unleashed by the poem’s appreciation of modernist/imagist influence. Well done.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Gingerbread men have no feelings, then? You are cruel, sir, cruel. But i love your poem, it’s fun. 🙂 I am sorry it took me 24 hours to arrive here, but it’s been a hectic day. Thanks for being part of the List, which had scads of late birds, much to my pleasure.

    Liked by 1 person

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