Image: Unsplash, downloaded https://unsplash.com/photos/4Fi_4Q6_eFM (16.5.2021.)
HAD BEEN TOLD
In high school we had been told
that boys do not touch each other.
We touched each other often
and were still boys. I fell
in love with you easily. Then again,
I fell in love easily, with anything
from bellbottoms to licorice. You said
we could touch each other anywhere
all we want—so long as we don’t fall
in love. I found it strange
how you could shut love up
in a garage and leave the car running.
We went to distant colleges,
rarely wrote.
You married someone. Are you
or were you in love? I married someone,
love our private plane. We get
some turbulence yet never crash.
SOMEWHAT ME
I wear “me” like a fashion.
With no solid self, everything
is liquid and lighting.
Many selves pile up
and start to stink.
The trash men don’t come
until Tuesday. I have to live
with them a while longer.
My selves are ice cubes popping
out of the tray.
Some melt quickly.
Others cool my afternoon tea.
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.
