Sunday, September 4, 2011
on Oak Glen Place: a ballad
In our suburban paradise,
This is how we hide our shames:
Sally sips her daily fifth
with the pale cloud curtains drawn;
never mind the August heat –
freezer vodka cools the soul.
Jerry's curses, Janet's screams
never reach the quiet walk.
From behind the double drapes
grunts and trills of afterlust
cannot pierce the mockingbird's
boosting of his own loud love.
Damn the baby's pesky cries –
screw the casements to their slots –
each dark window on the street
can't be held responsible.
When it's time for lullabies,
open wide the door at last.
And, my darling, silently
I draw the plastic round my neck,
tongue the sweet ice to my lips,
all in the fading afternoon,
then turn the hourglass ocne more
and set it on the darkening floor.