Hydroglyphics – Poem

There’s a name for the first car

the last car, and that’s it.  We’ll

call this guy captain caboose


because it’s sweetly insulting.

Maybe he won’t suspect

my alarm of togetherness


and we’ll relax into neon

tubes twisting blue-green-blue:

Open.  It keeps swiveling


and I suppose that means its ajar

A jar, a joke, a set of jacks

throw the ball, watch it


climb to apogee.  Remember

me.  The lottery cast

iron skillet was enough


for his spring break-

(fast/down).  Or rather

mine.  But who isn’t


hungry?  Who hasn’t erased

the answer and cursed

the pencil as plebeian


unjust lead?  And a child who

lost his parents is

an orphan, a parent who


loses her child is lost.

And what is the name for

marking up a page


because the person you

want to mark isn’t

yet made?


One thought on “Hydroglyphics – Poem

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