A Barred Owl Speaks to Me
Time throws an axe at my head. I don’t
duck quickly enough. Wounded,
I keep walking. The forest deepens
and darkens. A barred owl speaks to me
with a charming owl accent. We talk
about Butternut Lake which knows
many spring songs. A harpsichord
inside an uncurling fern plays so I start
to dance, no longer lonely. The owl
flies away. One feather
drops on my shoulder. I suddenly know
every word in the dictionary of trees.
I Open the Door
and it’s Bette Davis, dead
for over three decades,
but fresh as a can
of Mountain Dew.
I make her
a stiff martini. She says
death is like getting
A small prick,
you say ouch,
and walk out into forever.
Kenneth Pobo is the author of twenty-one chapbooks and nine full-length collections. Recent books include Bend of Quiet (Blue Light Press), Loplop in a Red City (Circling Rivers), and Uneven Steven (Assure Press). Opening is forthcoming from Rectos Y Versos Editions. Lavender Fire, Lavender Rose is forthcoming from Brick/House Books.