A great poem, but don't let that turn you off
I ran across this poem on the Poem of the Week blog listed on Blogs of Note. It is called Valentine for Ernest Mann. It's by Naomi Shihab Nye. It really hit me, you know, thinking about whether poems are like tacos, which they aren't, and whether skunks could be valentines, which they can. Take a look here:
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I know that wasn't the point of the poem, and I agree with the premise, and it was very well worded. For some reason, though, I couldn't get the thought of skunks trying to scratch me through chicken wire out of my head...