a classical education can’t save you from the radio
       

I looked up sky. I blued, obscured.
You were nowhere in my dictionary.

And the birds gave up reciting
their foreign vocabularies.
The clouds broke off their pas de deux.

Do do. The world is full of spit.
The sun’s just a French pop song.

Do do, you do, you don’t, you did
decline the thunderstorm, the chorus
girl and all her words for weepy.

Copyright © 2010 Sarah Barber All rights reserved
from The Kissing Party
The National Poetry Review Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission