Poem submitted by Sandra Carpenter, February 6, 2003 

HARD TASKMASTER

She's still telling the tides where to start:  boss,
taskmaster, overseer bent on dominance.
Under her cycle the blood of madmen boils.  She hails the hoodlum with impaled knife
and the hot housewife who slips from the dark of her back porch to that lover hiding beneath her shadow.  Whales eavesdrop on her leaving in the short staggers of the sea.  Neither sunflower nor sun exit free of her spell, this enchantress changed nightly, casting her monthlong circle of handcuffs over the losers.  Even we are caught in the golden band of the now-full moon smiling tonight, like us, goodbyes come soon.

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