Caroline Knox

 

 

You

 

                        You should have                     seen three                                young deer

 

 

this                              morning come                         out of the                                green

 

 

                        haze pre-dawn                         to eat                                       away at the

 

 

            juniper trees                             we had planted                       between us

 

 

and the                        highway.                      They started                                        at face level

 

 

            and chomped down                and then up as             high as they could reach.

 

 

                        Soon there were bare                          cedar trunks                with

 

 

                                    small  green                                         trees on top.

 

 

In the Year of the Ax,

 

they took a shine to the TV,

it was with Windex and holey cotton

socks; an effulgence on the

flat screen blazoned the season.

 

Holey cotton-looking clouds

laden with pre-snow

clotted the welkin and environs.

It was dark during the day, it

was not Daylight Saving,

it was Eastern Standard

Time.  By the light of an effulgence from

behind the fire screen,

they read TV Facts, TV

Guide (Celebrity Rehab).

Artwise, they read and heard

John and Alan Lomax.

To the grubby hearth they took

Clorox, they took Clorox II.

They got out Ajax and Purex.

Not feeling too bright,

they poured boiling water

into the vortex of the Chemex

for a fix.  They scrubbed the

Latex walls with Boraxo.

 

They paid their Amex

bills; they ate Tex-Mex

takeout; in Gore-tex slickers

they perambulated; they

checked the indexes on

screens; they Xeroxed.

Holey cotton socks

make prodigious rags

for cleaning products.

Laden with cleasing poisons,

the products nix grease,

germs, dirt. With xes

on their eyes, they caught some zs.

 

 


Joan of Arc High

 

These guys go to All Saints

St. Alvin          St. Simon        St. Theodore

with holy cuckoo helium voices

I go to La Pucelle High School

it's fairly francophone

I go to LAlouette, to Jeanne DArc

We honor all our students at Joan of Arc High

Joan said it all:  “If you hurt me I will say anything you like

to stop the pain”—Bernard Shaw made her say it

in Saint Joan Scene IV—

“but I will take it all back after, so what is the use of it?”