Two Poems by Kenneth Pobo
DULCET TONES ON GETTING AHEAD SOMEDAY
I’m in my pajamas
at 3 in the afternoon.
I haven’t showered. Maybe
I did a few days ago. Dishes
in the sink form an army
to overthrow me. I should be
overthrown. Sometimes I sit
by the window, sure that nights
now are darker than before.
The moon turns her back on us.
I used to think I’d be getting ahead.
Someday got stuck between floors
on an elevator. Nobody to rescue it.
In the morning the clock
will aim its second hand at me,
shoot--I’ll drop down,
not dead, just wounded,
infected by time.
DULCET TONES AS BARRED OWL
I ask my mother “Who cooks for you?
Who cooks for you?” She says no one
cooks for her, runs her kitchen
like she’s giving a water fall directions
on how to flow upstream. We know
not to speak to her when she maps
out her concentration in spices
and flour. Sometimes,
like an owl in a tree, I watch her
worship at the altar of ingredients.
She doesn’t see me. I’d fly
out the window and up
into a tree--but she’s my mother,
and this is her favorite time.
Kenneth Pobo has a new book forthcoming from Assure Press called Uneven Steven. Also forthcoming is a chapbook from Moonstone Arts called The Book of Micah.