Poem of the Week 11/21/17
Patrick Hughes
Berko Proceeds Through Grace and Spasms- Notes on I’dSIMTH PT2
it’s not your house till you curl up on the slope
till then you’ve just repossessed the venom drip in abject apartheid
and even the neon but shadow mannered swell
will feel you turned and left it
with a halfway you “for sale” sign
the tack on begs fart butts and gingerbread awning crust
and a decade’s weather book
and a decade’s weather book
an all the way forespent
as you lift your head
in the car
a height acknowledged
above the sphere on the top of
the flag post
and you’re checking in
your key ring hand
and it’s warmth on your face
all crowds and places
hand held up waves
the tracking motion and all of
what is inherent in
a gaped mouth and a tight hug
an idle drift
a bridge of stairs
more patio than cobblestone
with bells in our chests
holding the course of distribution
let you down like the rest
palm print’s proxima-null
and hover round a village corner
a let down of too many goes
to turn around and
drive back the other way
and it’s not your house
and the last wave is not affected
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