Poetry

SONNET: PARROT MELODY

I am the joker; I’m one who parrots till the air

Has no gaps in it. Not even a bullet could pierce

The haunt of my sarcasm. Under the square 

Of my jaw lay cavemen, frivolous but fierce.

My cavemen are good storytellers, they test

The waters, set sail to sea, catching the lump

In my throat. Some words, more likely than rest,

Appear side by side. Will you, too, clump

Them together? Laughing, I tilt my head back:

My house burned down; she didn’t believe me.

You’ll have to be more convincing, less opaque

To tell jokes like that. But––you––could it be?

Your eyes frozen to mine, embarrassed.

For a moment––pity––you kill the parrot.

TALKATIVE CHALK

Chalk against the pavement, clips her nails, edging trim;

Courtyard kids crouched under the leaves, treehouse branches

Listen to the sidewalk chalk; it signals secret invitation

In the streetlight, sprawled out frieze: a thousand angels,

Wings overlapping, flashing, shining under the moon.

A little girl sits, criss-crossed, patchy ashy jeans, stained

Sweaty fingerprints where she wipes her palms. 

Turquoise, verdigris twists in her braids, touching her nose

And spiraling down like a fountain. 

Courtyard kids write courtyard clues, 

Drawing dreams, daffodils, dinosaurs, 

Volcanoes, rainbows, penguins, sledding, sliding, 

And on the iceberg, shaky, jelly writing:

Save me.