Wednesday, November 9, 2011

dear john

Toothless and hoofless, I defer
to the republic.
The Third World
swirls beneath the stumps
where once were my ankles.

Mine is a cash register
holiday, following the decorum
of the sanitarium, of the moments
next to John.

John? Come in John.

How are you.
Sing some more
to me now, sing ever. Register
with bridgeless jumpers and
leave the drinkers.
I need you here.