Maintenance and Repair
Poverty
prohibits
maintenance
and repair
on house and
car
and body
I wrestle
with this daily
attempt to
do it with
what is at
my disposal,
a dollar here
an orange there
a friend to patch the roof.
Maintenance
and repair
chipmunk
fills his cheeks
on my door
step
maple seeds
scattered
he’s drinking from the
small fish tank
Bake some
potatoes, Lindy
heat up the
house.
Lack of
repair
and fading
colors
lonely.
I wish I
were a chipmunk
not really, but for a day
scampering,
jumping
collecting
filling my
cheeks
with maintenance
storage for
the colder
whiter time.
I have not
touched the ground today
(Inspired by
a poem by Thomas Ratte)
I have not touched
the
ground today
I have not felt damp
fertile soil nor
dry packed dirt.
I have not
felt the
embrace of
water’s arms, nor
have I heard the beating
heart of this pulsating earth.
I have kept
it all at bay
As though
the very core of life
is what will
bring me down.
I have not
heard
the landing leaves
those verbal geese
a child’s laugh
I have not
seen
the floating clouds
sparkling spider’s web
floating milk weed seed
I have kept
it all away
in hopes of
waiting
for the
inevitable
to throw me
down on my face
explode, left
to navigate
edges, sharp
points and soft caresses
lying in
front of my feet
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