Larry the Llama
There once was a llama who broke out of his pen
When for a wander he had a great yen
He jumped over the fence
His roam to commence
To seek a good scratch down in the glen
There once was a llama who broke out of his pen
When for a wander he had a great yen
He jumped over the fence
His roam to commence
To seek a good scratch down in the glen
We make oatmeal, pancakes, hot chocolate
grandchildren play in the shade
wide grass overgrown
they run run run
play low basket basketball
throw balls at each other
one cries the other says
I’m sorry
after her father insists.
The first post-op CT blares
as it bares down on you:
reverberates in your skull,
clenches tight your jaw.
You read or hear the results
and it trails away, descending.
It may never again reach that pitch,
but neither does it wholly fade.
With each new scan or lab,
though lower than before,
you feel the waves amass,
knot, and tangle in your ears.
just like you, the stubborn
clock refuses to budge
sixteen hours now
and this final inning
bases are loaded
this kid on the other team
hits a pop fly – up, up up!
the kind of thing that
could split the seams. doc says,
he’s a big boy, I’m worried
he might be stuck, heart rate’s
dropping. she gets the forceps
makes you lift your glove
like a golden torch
near third base, steady, steady,
squint into the sun
everyone holds their breath
but there’s no time after all
before it all barrels down
in a sudden, white-hot rush
as spectating eyes bounce
ball to glove, ball to glove,
and finally, here comes
that satisfying thud
the beating heart, those sure,
strong lungs, and you,
a dream in her hands
crying now
an eruption of joy.
you’re so good at this thing
that you’ve always done,
keeping my heart in my throat.
How Do You Feel About Your Body?
after David Huddle
Bird ankles too weak for ice skates bad left eye
not constructed for multiple births breasts as big
as tractor tires enlarged mole on the back of my neck
(I left my hair long to cover it) If I filled out
a citizen’s application for my body I’d write
sturdy worker bones tough feet for calluses
blisters bruises strains all-in-all good stock
I could speed on my Hi-Flyer like a mountain stream
snake sliding downhill no Big Macs, salmon
and Caesar salad my favorites two coffees w/heavy cream
indulge in Guinness and club crackers After a stroke
I’m more sloth than eagle I still sing off-key
hot shower trickle balance my aging body on the rail
I remember the day you moved out,
how your women’s circle came
to provide support and strong arms,
how they cornered me in the kitchen,
isolated, contained, as if I was virus,
contagion.
One by one the women
carried boxes out into the light,
until just you at last, a mumbled That’s that.
I offered all I had left, shower curtain rings,
believing my charity might win
you back.
The six of you gathered
in the driveway for a group hug
and a prayer to the goddess of the rock,
while I stood on the front porch,
useless, past-tense, a man
and his damnable cock.
