Daddy couldn't pay the mortgage.
Mommy serves us dinner porridge.
It's the rain, come pouring down.
Now look -- our TV stopped working,
Daddy's remote, fingers jerking.
Watch, the rain is coming down.
We left the car, it's out of gas.
Mommy yells, keep walking, fast.
We are wet, it's raining down.
We live in a crummy motel.
Our classmates promise not to tell.
Look, teacher, it's raining down.
Water roars inside the gutters
Thunder jumps our hearts to flutters
and the rain keeps pouring down.
May Kuroiwa
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Good, May!
ReplyDeleteMaggie
The bus always stops opposite a Victoria’s Secret
ReplyDeletedisplaying over sized posters
of women with oversized breasts
in a pose that generation ago was pornographic
and I am unmoved
my blood unstirred
my hormones still asleep
my imagination unengaged
But drop me off
at the Metropolitan Museum Of Art
or at the galleries of the Asia Society
and their stone torsos
Greek, Roman, Hindu, Buddhist
Gods, Goddesses, dancers, Buddhas
with or without arms or heads
their beautiful, rhythmic, graceful, fluid bodies in stone
so tactile, so desirable, so alive
even if pot-marked, pitted, stained
and I am moved
my blood is stirred
my hormones awake
my imagination engaged
I am ready for love.
Peter Goodwin