Kenneth Pobo Showing How Its Done

TANG POETS COMING OVER

We’ve got too few lawn chairs,

but maybe our guests will prefer

to sit on grass.  Are we stocked

with wine?  Li Po will want a glass

as soon as death’s gate opens—

he’ll pop in, followed by

the other two.  Wang Wei will

ask to stroll in the garden. 

I should’ve weeded.

For Tu Fu, we’ll need to borrow

a mountain.  Or invent one.  Fast. 

I know you don’t like poetry much--

neither do honeybees.   We don’t

have to dress up.  Death’s gate

will open again and they’ll go,

probably early, and pooped,

we can flop on the couch and leave

the dishes ‘til morning. 

TU FU AT THE SOMERSET DINER

He tells Tiffany: I’d like

to order a mountain,

topped with a rainbow,

and served on a bed

of warm earth.  I don’t

see it on the menu.

She’s had tougher

customers before—

damned if she doesn’t

serve it to him and

damned if he doesn’t

dig right in.

IN A TOY STORE

I’m buying my niece some

modern game I don’t understand

or want to play

but she wants it so bad,

and I remember how I wanted

a hockey game

for Christmas, almost

wept when I got it—

in line some snarling white man

screams THE REPUBLICANS

WILL FIX EVERYTHING,

YOU’LL SEE.  He has that

rancid look, like spoiled meat

I forgot to throw out.  Oh,

to tell him to pipe down,

but he could easily be violent

and shoot us all

without remorse.

SECRET LOVE

Perhaps I’d like to

make love to you,

birch tree.

What remarkable bark,

leaves that hide

just enough mystery.  I admit

we aren’t made for each other. 

We’ll have to love

without touching

like someone who says

“I can only be friends with you”—

that’s fine, I already know

what a fine friend you are.

You hold my secrets,

release them in fall

when wind carries them away.