Six Poems

by Kenneth Pobo



RED SWINGSET

                 Gregory Crewdson Beneath The Roses

 

On the red swingset, Abby

thinks about Paul,

the Apostle, determined

 

to get to Rome, a quest

and a duty.  Abby gets

weary just trying to get

 

to Chambersburg.  She doubts

that God has any great plans

for her.  Neither do her parents. 

 

Her boyfriend Lenny says they’ll

have kids.  It sounds like

a reproach.  She finds kids

 

boring.  The swingset

holds her as it has for many years. 

Everything still.  Even clouds

 

slow down to eat the pink

pie of dusk.  Lenny may

drop in later.  Unless

 

he’s too drunk.  The Apostle

won’t drop in.  He’s busy

herding angels.  Abby believes

 

in angels.  She’s just never

met one and would be

tongue-tied if she did. 

CLAPBOARD

                Gregory Crewdson Beneath The Roses

From our second-floor balcony,

a bruised-looking sky

announces a new rain. 

A dim streetlight calls me,

though our lights are on.

I prefer them off.  My family

needs them for homework

 

or when my husband

plays piano, the only man

on our street who does,

slow, sad songs.  Perhaps

we’ve lost each other,

not sure how—

when he plays

I feel discovered, seen. 

 

I’m Ruth, not like the praised

Biblical one.  I get a grocery list,

count quarters for the laundromat.

APOLOGY

In eighth grade

I made fun

of Lowell

only because

his mom

taught me English--

I’d yell out Lowell,

can’t you hear your

mother calling you?

I found this

terribly funny.

 

I’m sorry,

Lowell.  A half

a century gone,

I complained about

bullies, yet

on the playground

I didn’t care

if I hurt you.

EARLY DAYS IN HEAVEN

 

Now that I’ve died I find

the pearly gates are lavender. 

 

Bette Davis and Judy Garland

let me in.  Dear Judy, singing

“Get Happy” as I enter paradise. 

I ask about Peter.  Bette says

he’s giving a TED talk to lazy angels. 

Heaven takes some getting used to. 

Streets can walk and buildings

have Jello bricks.  I ask a spirit

where my mansion is.  The spirit

doesn’t know what a mansion is. 

 

I get homesick for Earth

thinking of an island on a lake

growing a single pine,

an eagle on top. 

I’m wistful

 

until I find a piano bar

where everyone sings

“I Got Rhythm,”

even God.

JUST MY LUCK

The busy parking lot,

a dream that I hope

to wake from soon.  At

the laundromat I pass

time with a magazine,

cover torn off.  Ads

say that I’m a sorry mess-- 

something

 

is missing.  Well,

don’t I know it. 

Just try to find it

in torn socks

and a scorched robe. 

 

In a couple of hours

I’ll be in bed,

sound awake,

listening for mice.

LENNY WITH VIOLETS

 

My bones

will be still

as silverware

in a cedar chest.

 

Flowers

may

pop

open

above me,

 

Earth

seeing up

through branches

using eyes

of violets.




BIO: Kenneth Pobo has a new book out called At The Window, Silence (Fernwood 2025). Forthcoming is a chapbook called Raylene And Skip (Wolfson Press). Poems are forthcoming at Hamilton Stone Review, Wordpeace, and Arlijo.

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