Poetry

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?

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