DEAR READER

Riffling backwards through these pages seeking
an arresting image, a memorable line,
I feel you hovering outside my door.
Come in. Put down your pack. Rest a while.

How did I know you were lurking here?
Did I "used to be some kind of 'seer'"?
If you're asking did I ever hang a sign
with a diagram of an open palm--

You're standing under it.
Am I myself perhaps some kind of reader?
For you, the Lazyboy. Just lean back
And press the lever. There!

Can I bring you something?
Pepsi-cola, bologna on white?
Oh I forgot, you've been to college.
My Wonder bread's not good enough for you.

So tell me, how can I,
a tragic old woman, delight you?
Why should you linger
amid the bric-a-brac with me?

Give me your palm. I'll show you
a thing I learned in the Old Country.
Oh my God

Wherever you purchased this book,
take it back. Shut it at once and keep
it shut. Don't make me tell you
what I see.

ONCE UPON A TIME

Out of the darkness came
the silhouetted stranger
in the deep creased hat.

She watched from the curtain
his knock at the door.
I've come to rob you,

Said his grin. I'm the only
jewel in this house
replied her stammer.

O God who works us from within
like fist puppets, what now?
Cordon off the walk

With yellow tape. Let no one enter.
The walls are scrawled
with hidden agenda.

There was so much junk
and trash in the trunk,
I thought they might

Overlook it, but no,
everything has to be explained,
even the tin enamelled cup

Splattered with stars.


from Drop Dead Beautiful
(Wood Works Press, 1997)