Rocket of antebellum
Ship of tribal plenty
How come I don’t read about you in the papers?
Ancient tons of stone
The cancer bomb
You are no different from the kid during recess
Who would never climb on the monkey bars
Is it funny
That in you I find nature?
Necessarily, like
White dwarfs and apple cider,
The early cackle of iron spades
Who wouldn’t ever
think about throwing tiny stones at chipmunks and tree trunks
The kid who grew too coyly and might cheat on a test
To prevent the complete dismissal of that glib philosophizing
The dead space in Siberia
Was that a Soviet trick?
Did Einstein sell them a travel kit?
Did his gratified grin twist in a quantum fit?
You think I don’t know you at all
But I do know your nature
I know you like secrets
In my mind I am sinking
Into the pit
This is where the secrets dance
And you are a fat gatfly
Awaiting a flick


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s