This appeared in Poetry Proper.
This is a house without chalcedony
Or Andamooka opals, and it deems
Its seizure insecure. Hawks veer away
To overfly somebody else's house.
This house is what it is, is what it is.
You want to meet us? We share a single bath,
Not privacy. Our calendar misquotes
In scarlet letters Make your life sublime
Use Rapid Sands. We never leave the room
For grave emergencies. Our motto is
A tramp stamp on the lady of the house,
Her fine embroidered sacroiliac,
Hunker Down, which seems not to overstate,
And understatement is a way of life.
Why, there is a bone here after all; a mole
Has left his skull, a warrior's helmet toy,
For Spike to crunch and play with. This is a house
Without a porphyry tub or sisal strings
To anchor it, and someday it will leave.
No comments:
Post a Comment