Riding in a Car, Winter
The clouds were shaped like presidents;
A friend said snow was coming.
I said the presidents were shaped like clouds;
A standard
For political life …
You said the houses were closed against winter
Like granaries—only Odysseus
Has the key. I wished the story of hunger
Could be funny—just turn a phrase—
The rich have all the cake; the poor run off
With the keys. The startling thing
About the sky in northern latitudes
Is the tendency to see scripture
In the mackerel and mare’s tails—
So there are gods under every leaf.
Stories circulate. Plain men starve.
The clouds resemble waves
Returning from far shores
Where money is useless.
The clouds were shaped like presidents;
A friend said snow was coming.
S.K.
I love the images you create with words and rhythms in your poetry. You always surprise me with sudden, stark beauty. And in this one, I'm intrigued by the difference sizes of type. I hear whispers following bald, raspy statements.
I'm smiling and amazed. Again.
Posted by: Wren | November 23, 2008 at 03:09 AM