'Alas, I Cannot Swim' (2012) by Jehan Choo © |
a thrift store biscuit dive :
I mean can playing what ifs on the edge
bring on an apocalypse, someone's, I'm sure
but not mine, not yet,
I have need where
my heart lives
bellow liver and goats
all putrid remains
of chances not taken
are buried
in the basement
what I hid
is jar lid me(s),
what I remember
the popping sound
and smells, open windowed
warm Autumn
canning late peppers
and tomatoes
playing what ifs
on the edge
tide skipping
flipping off
the grackles
and pipers
on a wire
it is almost
another full Moon
and May is buttering
bread past time, the
what ifs are what is
said as true
and we have to
try and feed
the masses again
I'll make something
zucchini, tomato, onion and pepper
water early and globes of garlic
the Sun pilfer neared absolution
and whole religions
rise die and rise again
because of it, each
a little more special
in their own eyes
don' t you think
besides, we've been throwing
the young and the elderly
into the deep end
for awhile now
and yes as with the end
of most poems
reflecting a future
with and without me
a icy cold nehi,
would be great
right now ...
EJR ©
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