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Spring 2005 Issue

Portrait of a Miner

Looking behind--
Leaving the artists gallery
His retort unheard
the artist's brush
swipes brown strokes across the miners backsides
gray up the nape of their necks
burnt yellow against their hungry lunch pails
let me see a photograph
the painter is implored
if held to the light
when the sun comes in at noon
I see again what I saw in the gallery you display in
how can I be expected to recreate from memory
the look of the cat
walking slowly
licking its paws
coated with coal dust
how much money--
do you think a miner keeps
in his lunch pail
anyway

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Counting Games

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
let's stop at 10
the number of all the times
I cross your path, my black cat
becoming yours
isn't it frightening
the way the world turns
we who are at cross purposes
slash and burn
because what else is there to do
not a lot--
you see
how hard it is
I can eat a lollipop while playing hopscotch
quicker than it takes me
to buy a red balloon
land on top and sail off--
that's how much I hate you
get it now
Beelzebub
look in a mirror
because all you see now
my friend
is what I see
which is me looking at you
that's what hate does
doppelganger
you've got it now, I know you have
it only took me how long
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
years
to teach you what I learned--
from you first of course