Rapunzel’s Spawn
I live in an ivory tower,
third floor rental,
peeling paint,
surrounded by streets and sirens.
I have a daughter
friends and neighbors have dogs;
snarling beasts from hell,
their bunched leavings
smeared on my shoes,
trodden into my rug.
I do not love the machine
which imprisons me,
would only shear my head
to plug its drain holes.
As a child I was taught
to grip the ground,
turn my back on
all things not.
| |
My daughter’s an
enchanted trout,
bred to entertain a class
of anglers
using barbless hooks,
connoiseurs,
true humanitarians,
strictly catch and release,
thrown back with a sore
in her mouth.
Meanwhile back home,
nothing tillable,
I gather up small pieces of earth
and burdened with the responsibility
of their removal,
climb the stairs every night
to the third floor.
|