By Mitchell Hadley
The finest poem I've read in quite a while (H/T Jonah at NRO):Tiger Tiger turning right
In the driveway late at night
Your immortal hand and eye
Couldn't make the car comply?
Of whose waiting shapely thighs
Did you dream with bolted eyes
Instigating you to crash
Into the stately water ash?
Was it worth a rendezvous
With some star-struck ingenue
Just to verify you could
Withstand a sliced Norwegian wood?
Tiger Tiger turning right
In the driveway late at night
What covert obsession made
You climb into the Escalade?
With apologies, I'm sure, to William Blake.
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