"make it count"
In the asylum day room the floor steams
a sewer grate, and everyone drops the dime
on each other for the one call you get to make,
if you can climb the telephone pole.
The coins fall thru and someone says
ding ding ding we have a sinner.
I have a hammer that rings
morning call to prayer, a brass gong
forms a circuit in the electrified
air, carousel horses in pretty paint
circle like the moon howling
at the earth. They’re chasing rump
with teeth bared like a T-Vangelists grin.
Everyone is elbowing everyone else,
for the chance to macaroni
someone else’s pony.
On page 92 of my calculus text,
all unknown unknowns are solved
but I can’t set up the differential
equation, I am still trying to remember
the number of the public radio station.
I’ve been remanded to my cell for refusing
to take my turn as the dice in Parcheesi,
the Mughals are upset at the pawns greasing
their palms with avocados, tithing
with the skins. Taking on the day,
everyone backstrokes each other,
then explodes in orgasmic mitosis. Cosmic
dust bangs something justforthehell of it.
And I believe that my call has gone thru
when someone far away says
Hello! you’re a great American!
© 2007 sue kay
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