In Sanctuary
popeye loses his skivvies
& dixie cup cap quicker
than a drunk sailor on shore
leave exchanging them
for a funereal black
suit & slouch hat that he tilts
to shade his squinty eye gone
is the squeegee-clean
persona the kid friendly
cackle the familiar corn-
cob pipe a foul spinach-green
cigarette nearly
burnt to the nub now dangles
from his lower lip as he
mutters such memorable
bons mots as I yams
what I yams or that’s alls I
cans stands & I canst stands no
more highlighting faulkner’s fine
ear for dialect
olive oyl the apple of
popeye’s eye his good one plays
a ditzy yahoo hailing
from yazoo city
with an uncanny knack for
making men so horny they
hurl themselves like lemmings of
lore off lover’s leap
on cue popeye’s nemesis
bluto nee brutus in seer-
sucker suit & suspenders
enters a small-town
attorney charged with taking
on his rival not with skull-
cracking ball-busting scrawny
ass-pasting sorts of
brutality as is his
wont but in a court of law
he knows popeye’s a psycho
the grim & gravied
round the clock rough house crowd out
to lunch in perpetuum
watched him empty his gat
into j wellington
wimpy’s gut the price of a
hamburger unremitted
tuesday as agreed but can
bluto get even
one of those lily-livered
yellowbellies to say so
under oath alice the goon
shines as a narco-
leptic sex worker likewise
swee’ pea’s a natural as
a bawling brat that said I
give sanctuary
a less enthusiastic
recommendation than the
hamlet what with its haunting
backwater backdrop
where a conniving uncle’s
marriage to his brother’s well-
endowed widow leaves them all
in a rotten state