I met a man who wore a glove,
He slapped and slapped and showed no love,
Until a man with gun in hand
Did decree 'As here I stand
Your soul is long not for this land!'
And with aplomb he fired two shots.
He wore gloves then, his corpse does not.
YOU ARE READING
The Glove
PoetryThe gloved man died as he lived, arms aloft as if to thrash the world and all who dwelled there.
