"softballs" poems
The ruler comes down from on high
Dragging himself along the earth
Insulation going up like confetti
Take cover, take shelter
Ice the size of softballs
Comes streaking from the sky
There’s nowhere left to run
Huddled under the bridge
And then a sound like rushing water
Feels like a freight train overhead
We weep and cry and gnash our teeth
As the trumpet blares
Drove down Telephone Road
Where it crosses the highway
Sandcastles washed out to sea
Old bills put through the shredder
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
we made home-made bread
yesterday, with tomatoes the
size of softballs,
in the kitchen where you
watched the sun rise like
dough; ambling along morning
in the company of the past—
mischief buried in our
bones—
while you harvested memories
and string beans between
rows of clover.
you watched us and we
watched you behind the window,
behind the sink—
*what kind of trouble will you,
we,
get into today?*
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC