Two Poems by Kenneth Pobo

Lumberyard

Love is like a lumberyard,
and I get lost among long aisles,
a pleasant kind of lost.  I breathe in 
deeply the sawdust smell, 
even tingle a touch when a saw
cuts a board into just the right size.  

I ask for help and I’m given exceedingly 
clear instructions of where to go, 
but I remember junior high 

wood shop, how my teacher made me 
use the lathe.  I messed up 
my book shelf.  Even a thin copy 
of Poe’s poems tipped it over.  Poe 
tipped me over too, my first love, 
darkness getting in my shirt 
like a fly.  Sometimes 

the lumberyard closes, a long wait 
until morning.  I’m there 
at the entrance as soon as it opens.  
I don’t know what I’m looking for,
but I will find it.  


Another Overcast Day Yet My Life Changed

I had run out of cinnamon for my oatmeal, 
the sky so blank I could write 
my name on it.  I thought about 
how to pep up my life,
 
my boring life.  Zeus appeared, 
looking like Paul McCartney back in 1967.  
I almost asked him to sing 
“Lovely Rita Meter Maid.”  He said he had 
a man for me who’d ring my bell 
at exactly 4:00.  I could choose not to answer—

or let love in.  At 4:00 I opened the door.  
It turned out that we had 
much in common and fell in love—

it didn’t last.  Still, if Zeus pops in again, 
I’ll make him some fruit punch.  Maybe
he’ll launch a few hundred thunderbolts.  
He’s fun that way, cutting the sky open 
while clouds kiss and dissipate.

About the author

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.

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