Thursday, June 9, 2011

Of Poems II

A new poem. Not my best. It'll do.

We have four pictures.
It is my father's family
or mine or
us or ours.
It is Halloween,
and it is not. and not and not.

We are costumed. We are a clown, or
our mother's idea thereof.
We are focused with bespectacled Kathy, half-
lidded, concentrating.

Now: We ask ourselves,
what of Halloween?
We say, "I dressed as a hippie."
We aren't sure what that is.
We don't know what to say.

Not-Halloween: our hand hovers
over a fish on the counter,
menacing and desirous,
caught on a hook in the moment.

This is any day
and every day
coming back to us through years of void and regret.

That's all for now.

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