Little Vines 11/24/20

This week’s Little Vines.

what’s your objection
to this particular unfolded paper rectangle?
is it the words written on it?
why are you setting it on fire?

this can of white paint –
industrious, talented, and bland –
just what the wall is looking for after its last relationship
with the dramatics of pickle puke green flat latex

I dig and dig a pit in the sea
the salty water refilling as fast as I scoop it out
How will I ever be able to bury my secrets
if you fight me so hard?

Out early on the jealous city streets
she wears her emerald attitude on her face
she crosses traffic against the green light. So it begins.

here is what I have learned in the last thirty-five years:
the beginning wife picks the home
the ending wife picks the bank account

Happy to hear a bird sing
to push the night into the day
you do your part. You whistle along.

Of course you can’t talk to her now.
it’s eleven fifteen at night and
she’s up to her neck in pink pajamas.
Try her tomorrow.

Best friend to the Aardvark
the shoreline coasts along only a few yards away –
We’re not good sailors. We appreciate the escort.

the out-of-fashion necktie
in its brash unembarrassed paisleyness

my stomach
whisks me back home
in time for my mother’s spaghetti dinner

Does the skeleton refrain
from rattling inside the living body
as it runs a marathon? Think about it.

another deity
succeeds with the miracle
while the first one is still flipping through the manual

buy a costlier aquarium
collect some fancier fish
what a dumb way of keeping up with the Joneses

the susceptible me the implacable you
the inaccessible relationship we do not have
because despite it all we love each other

Malevolence at a lakeside cottage
the speedboat tied to the dock sneers
the water skis crossed in a lazy X lean against the hull

The cook’s habitual acidic running commentary
influences the outcomes of her baking:
Get a load of this over-the-top face-puckering lemon pie. Ewww.

3 thoughts on “Little Vines 11/24/20

  1. I like the idea of the last poem: just as we often hear about food being tastier because it was made with love, I can imagine being able to taste the acidity of food made with nasty feelings. My favourite LV from this collection, however, was the second one. Almost any mistake can be recovered from if we seek out the right solution. There is always a can of white paint available to us in life.

Comments are closed.