Dave Short

For Cat Stevens

Where do the children play? It

Certainly ain’t here no more. Perhaps they are

Busy throwing rocks, brewing

Hatred, and sipping malitohv cocktails. It would

Be absurd to think they still drink

Tea with the tillerman.

He’s moved away; he’s gone to safer parts.

Grownups can be so silly sometimes, huh Cat?

Sonnet

Rain will fall on the Sapphires tonight,

Showering the mountains with dulcet drops;

Then sharing the moon’s course without its light

It will softly wet roads, trees, homes, and crops.

In the morning a calf will lap the dew

From the grass. While the rain falls, though, she sleeps.

Few will glimpse the moon — cold, high, dulled, tired, blue —

As countless crickets chirp and the sky weeps.

The clouds will shower upon all this dry land,

Earth from coast to coast suckling the sky’s breast.

Then they will pass on to wash clean the sea.

Once they have flown far enough to the west

You can see them and come to understand:

The clouds that cover you have rained on me.

Elevators

the elevators function as box-units:

self-contained, sturdy, safe.

up, and down, and up, and down, and up,

and down, and up, and down, and up again.

their only amusement is the occasional

breakdown, people trapped like Peanut M ‘n M’s.

are their only friends the repairmen who

come so infrequently?

what if your only friends were the doctors

who scrape your throat, make you cough,

and give you a little bottle of pills?

do they wish to escape? to break

the confines of their shafts? to move

horizontally instead of vertically?

we’ll never know —

those without voices rarely speak.

a complex dance.
it may seem mechanical, but there are
a thousand variations:
tic-tac-toe for the couple.
So we go through the motions,
Follow everyone else
(or be pioneers), falling into
a rhythm, predicable, but no
less pleasurable. we rise
and fall, come into and
out of focus, the pace increasing,
blood pumping, hearts clouded
eyes closed breathing staca
tto quick faster rapid hard
er deeper all concentra
ting on not doing so
untilallthatmatters
iswhatliesbe
foreusbet
weenusa
rushof
sensa
tion
but
not
of
fe
e
l
i
n
g
u
n
t
i
l

— OHHHHH GOD —

Now for Christ’s sake
A vacant stare.
Our thirst is slake:
Do you still care?

Tear

		blue		a frown	a bitter

sweet smile		once a tear once

 a torrent		my rain		it’s my own

a photo			a kiss			thunder		sky tears

smoke		spirits		a tear		LOUD MUSIC

			a smile			a touch			a deep

bear hug			cold cold nights in

					mouths 		a tear

bounding bouncing shaking (shaking) moving

		a silly song			a warm

night in bed			all dolled up

		a tear we wear		a tear

freed hair			we care

	a tear			a thousand miles

	a salty tear — it rhymes with

near (you’re not)		a salty tear

— it rhymes with where (are you?)

I am not

			a tear

Lost at Sea

The wind whips up — its breath

warm — and I am whisked away.

Once in a while I drag

my legs to stall my movement,

but

I never kick to get myself anywhere.

Bermuda, France, China, Greenland:

I’ve been to each, but never

of my own volition.