Three Short Poems

The Rind

If I were 93

I wonder would there be

Any sense of urgency

And would there be

An even greater sense of

Being wrung out like a lemon

For its very last drops

 

Or of the universe

Being wrung out

For its last drops

 

Of something

Being wrung out

For its last drops?

 

January 25, 2016

 

 

Riddle

Is it as impossible

To take a picture of your phone

With your phone

 

As it is

To hold your right elbow

In your right hand?

As it is

To see yourself

In the mirror?

As it is

To hold a moment

In your head?

 

January 28, 2016

Backfire

To get back at you

For ending things

I got my new girlfriend

To seduce your new boyfriend

Now that they're together

And we're both free

How about you

Get back together with me?*

January 28, 2016

 

 

*Notes: For some reason, I feel compelled to assert that I've never done anything like this, nor do I know anyone who has. The poem came to me today, fully formed, while standing in front of the coffee machine at work.

For that matter, I believe the idea for "Riddle" also came to me while standing in front of the coffee machine a few days ago, and was initially going to be about how I had cracked the screen of my phone but that I couldn't take a picture of it because, you know, right elbow-right hand. But when I came to write it today, it came out differently--worse, I think. That's why it's generally better for me to write these things down as I think of them.

And as long as I'm writing notes, I believe "The Rind" came to me when I looked in the mirror Monday morning and thought I looked old and dried out. I thought it was a bit to whiny to publish on its own, and plus, I didn't want it to compete with the poem (or story, or whatever it is) I published Monday, so, here it is now. Hardly worth the wait, but it's not like you were actually waiting for it anyway.