Thursday, February 20, 2014

Poem: Account


The numbers tail me like affectionate pets.
(You can only do this much.)

Work and the numbers grow.
Scratch their heads and
watch their tails oscillate.
(You can do so much now!
Have a cigar; take a trip.)

Once in a while, they wander into
the median and disappear.
The world gets quiet.

I find a beach and kick rocks:
igneous, sedimentary, amalgam.

But I know they’re up there,
peering from the clifftops,
wild ellipses hungry for attention.
Sharpening their claws to a
fine decimal point.

First published in The Chaffin Journal
Eastern Kentucky University

From the collection Fields of Satchmo

Photo by MJV

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