Friday, November 7, 2014

poem of the day 11.07.14


the derelict kids
keeping running up and down
the subway can length

they’ve made it their own marathon

there are four of them
they sound like elephants

although their old man is able to sleep peaceably
having done is job by spreading his rotten seed

the mother keeps trying to calm the kids
she’s sitting across from dad
shouting in a voice that i can only compare
to rusted metal scraping off of sandpaper

and i’m a man who hates metaphors

but of course the kids aren’t listening
they are breathless at mile eleven

one of the kids has taken to squeezing
the other one’s head
his scream is piercing and defies
all that i’ve ever known about the human voice

i suppose it’s wrong to condone violence these days
but i wish the mother would just grab one of the kids

or have the dad wake up
grab the slow one, no, the oldest one
and whack them until they start to cry

it would send a nice message to the other kids
and to us poor saps stuck here with them

but dad keeps sleeping and mom keeps yelling
the kid getting his head squeezed is on the verge of passing out

while two of the others
start swinging on subway poles

while in a desperate act of self-preservation
i take my vodka bottle from down between my feet
and hold it to my chest

like a helpless infant or a lover

as the train conductor whispers
sweet nothings into my ear

by calling out the name of my stop.


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