King Kong

The gorilla fits his finger
around Fay Wray with care.
She pounds that thing

with high fists.
Frantic surf.
Spotlights pan from the wings.

White palms
leap from
the cottony dark.

Congas throb
their blue diminuendo.
An innuendo

only some
bottom of the ocean
blues and us

deaf darkies, us
punchdrunk old contenders
can remember.


2002 Jim McCurry.  All rights reserved. 

 

  More Poetry

Barcelona Olympics
5:13 A.M.
Stupidity
Triptych

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