Collage by Richard Hamilton
In 1956 a dinosaur returns from the dead
and enters our post office. Has he eaten
the letters we never wrote?
Tonight you and I discuss ottomans.
You like them small, I like them large,
and divorce hovers over us
like a honeybee above clover.
We change the subject. We do that a lot.
Subjects have sharp teeth. It’s best
to leave the room when they’re hungry.
Outside our house, no grass blade
grows higher than another.
An egalitarian lawn. We’re having
a baby soon. Despite being two men.
It’s a new time. We have good levers.
The lights go on as if by magic.
And stay on. Darkness
leaves the piano bench — we never see it again.
Kenneth Pobo has a new book out from Assure Press called Uneven Steven. His work has appeared in: North Dakota Quarterly, Hawaii Review, Atlanta Review, Nimrod, and elsewhere.