Tuesday, August 12, 2008
August Poetry Postcard Fest: Part 2 (Aug 5-6)
August 5, 2008
Squawk face, you called him
as affectionate as your grandfather's
nickname for me as a child--
"vance". Cockroach, pest, I didn't know enough
Yiddish to translate until years later.
Misplaced as this parrot, tangled
in the bramble of adolescence,
I name you sweet boy, gentle
even as summer thunderstorms buffet
your slender limbs.
August 6, 2008
Under the tucked in warmth
of good night kisses, you don't dream
tennis balls or rabbits. Your hands
twitch like paws chasing, chasing
some future a dog years'
distance away. I prowl
the boundaries of sleep,
a junkyard mutt burying unease
like a bone while you curl
nose tail in the den.