Tuesday, May 21, 2013

On Tenterhooks

Outside—the stale 
tulips drooping, peeling 
one 
by flaccid 
one 
beneath the supple arms 
of maples 
shedding reams of 
whirlybirds that auto-
rotate 
gently on the humid breezes 
punctuating
each new bout of scattered-t-storms-likely.

Inside—clean faces growing
restless at grubby 
classroom windows, 
a couple dozen 
supple necks look craned 
to crave those outdoor 
days undying—their cheeks are 
starving
and greedy to be 
smeared red, starved
and blazing
to slurp the flimsy flesh of 
cool melons in thick shade
while 
Chicago's All-News Station
drowns 
comingled in the background 
with distant
low-harmony of lawnmowers,
and other rumors 
of responsibilities which are not theirs.

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