Thursday, August 29, 2013

COMPLEXION

In urgent dress, the young clerk 
holds a reddish 
     rag up to his nose and 
paces
seated and intense-
ly through collected 
     poems of So-And-So—

while outside tawny 
throngs of finches 
     leapfrog
up splayed branches of 
an old resplendent 
     ever-
green that's framed in by 
his window, 
               chiding— 

Say son, why're you 
being such 
a sissy this morning—nursing a bloody 
     nose there, popping
pimples in your office 
chair?  What's wrong—You scared?

to death of a little 
simple height?  Or is it maybe 
     more like
sore-
afraid to lose a little depth!

No comments:

Post a Comment

HOW DO YOU FEEL?