OCTOBER, 2016

 

 

 

Election year, Blake’s poison tree

infecting the water system.

On the counter a pamphlet proclaims:

White people, wake up, take pride in your race….

 

While bicycling Wisconsin’s county trunks,

my knee, that intelligent joint

that adjudicates between motion and rest,

has ordered a stop here at ‘Bert’s By The Lake’

 

where silhouettes slip into shadows,

and an afternoon game show drones on T.V.;

diabetes and ischemic stroke full on the menu;

all eyes in the place like opened switch blades

 

pointed towards me, so I chose discretion,

don’t ask why amidst all this bucolia

does beauty seem to be the song

of an unfamiliar, untrusted bird;

 

or why such hatred of anything feminine;

nor do I try for common ground,  Instead

I slip into a booth quiet as I can,

my silly, cleated shoes chirping as I walk.

 

 

John Krumberger

 

 


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