not a poem for today

Compulsively Allergic to the Truth
by Jeffrey McDaniel

I’m sorry I was late.
I was pulled over by a cop
for driving blindfolded
with a raspberry-scented candle
flickering in my mouth.
I’m sorry I was late.
I was on my way
when I felt a plot
thickening in my arm.
I have a fear of heights.
Luckily the Earth
is on the second floor
of the universe.
I am not the egg man.
I am the owl
who just witnessed
another tree fall over
in the forest of your life.
I am your father
shaking his head
at the thought of you.
I am his words dissolving
in your mind like footprints
in a rainstorm.
I am a long-legged martini.
I am feeding olives
to the bull inside you.
I am decorating
your labyrinth,
tacking up snapshots
of all the people
who’ve gotten lost
in your corridors.

What Is in the Closet?

No less than five zip-up or pocketed hoodies.
Two L.L. Bean flannels.
Dress pants, dress shirts,
Several long and one short skirt.
Sweaters folded and stacked on shelves,
Too many shoes to count down below.

Magazines in all shapes and sizes:
Christian Century
Skin and Ink
National Geographic
New York Times Book Review
and Time.

School back packs and bags.
Back pack for hiking that never has hiked.
Canoe camping dry bags.
Purses: never used.

Photos in boxes.
An old Mac Plus.
A guitar that won’t stay tuned.
And a naked light bulb.

Several skeletons.

What do you have to say about this post?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s