Lady’s Dali
Out at the In-laws 9
I look at my notes
and there’s no poem here
except everything’s a poem
we’re all poems
coupled in free verse rhyme
like the time I dated a poem-poem girl
who dumped me when my palms grew hair
but that’s not fair
not here
not there
for here the near is Easter flair
out in in-laws’ lair
with charoset smear
on matzo crackers near
kosher ham and jam and beer
and most excellent potato salad
made like an Irish ballad
in Leprechaun home
which is closer to poem
but no fell jell which is swell
since Lady says tell
“big sloppy doggie walkie”
of Miles the dog of humongous mass
and tail-wagged ass
and largest heart of love in charge
in house of folk who drink and talk
and laugh and eat and fly and walk
most holidays and daze between
as life flows around in streams
which whirl in forge of poem when done
but missing much
especially such the sun bathed face
and fire sculpture burned
and piano played at stately pace
and madness of return
so no I know there’s no poem here
it’s all been done and gone
yet bend in near and shed a tear
for one lost song gone wrong
– Smith, 4.22.2014
