Poetry Dispatch No. 122 | November 13, 2006
3 More by Ronald Baatz
ALWAYS
here is a poem
I wrote for you
last year and
which I never
got around to
giving you
I hope it still
has some life
left to it although
I don’t
see why
it shouldn’t since
I try my best
to construct these
things with such
care that they
should last many years
without coming to
any reasonable ruin
just as a potter might
form a bowl
from clay or a
sculptor might chip
away at a hefty
block of marble
knowing their sweaty
toil will bring forth
objects possessing
the qualities necessary
to leap through
the ages
with a truth
otherwise
always known
THE SAME ORANGE
the same orange
has been on the
table for over
a week now
and every so often
i’ll notice it there
and i am tempted
to it eat but
the idea of it
being gone for
some reason does
not sit with me too
well
so it continues to
remain there
day after day
as though it were
an astray
and naturally I
know that some
day soon this
orange is going to
start going bad
and it’ll end up
simply being thrown
out and I’ll never
know what it would’ve
been like to eat
and i’ll have to
forgive myself this
I’M TELLING YOU
please let me get
up from this bed
I have an early
day tomorrow and
I must get home
to sleep
and stop trying to pin
me down I know just
how much stronger you
are than I am
and stop trying to put
my penis back in you
can’t you see how limp
and exhausted it is
and it has been informed
of my need to rise at
dawn so it is just as
anxious as I am to be
out the door and down
the road so please
stop sitting on me with your
godforsaken heavy ass
which probably doesn’t have to
get up until noon
from WORMWOOD REVIEW, #137, 1995
Recent Comments