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.
