The Funts

Mike Bell/ March 16, 2017/ www.mikebellpoems.com/ 0 comments

The foul-mouthed family
held court in the bar,
tossing “f#cking” and “c#nt”
in their expletive spars:

Sharp threats of a knifing,
came too easy, too quick,
that night of hard curses
got me peeved, thinking this,

I may have to frequent
a family-free pub:
A more friendly local,
With no fucking cunts.