Today's poem is by Kelli Russell Agodon
The Naming of Things
There is a woman we call Flock of Seagulls
who hangs out with a man we call Liza Minnelli's Wig
and sometimes, they walk a dog we call The Saint
of Nothing Special past a tree we call The Dying Mad
in a park we call Stinky Beach which is always windy
or what we call Doing the Fandango in God's Breath
near a salmon run we call The Last Hoorah
that leads to a body of water we call
the Plastic Convention on a planet
we call the Sad Spinning Rock
in a universe we call Liberace's Closet
and when I mention I haven't seen Liza Minnelli's
Wig recently while I sip what we call
Melville's First Mate while we are half-dressed
in our underwear we call the Opposite
of Mrs. Robinson's Leopard Print
Lingerie while typing on our Escape Window
or staring at our Magic Rectangle
and you say, He's moved back to Succotash,
what we call Seattle, because he's taking
care of Judy Garland, what we call
his mom and I say, Put down the knitting,
the book, and the broom, which is what
I say when we need stop letting the Dark
Monocle, what I call depression,
remind us that the Sad Spinning Rock has
rotated another day into the Graveyard,
which is what I call the calendar,
so I say, Let's go, Eeyore, and you say,
I'm sorry, Mrs. Dalloway, I've got to
take care of my Old Lady in the Window,
which is what you call your soul, so we
stay in Utopia which is what we call
our bed and glimpse the Sad Spinning Rock
from the sliding glass door or what we call
Invisible Shields Cause of Broken Noses
and if I listen closely, I hear the Saint of
Nothing Special barking in God's Breath
and probably peeing on The Dying Mad
before breaking away and jumping recklessly
into the Last Hoorah.
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Copyright © 2024 Kelli Russell Agodon All rights reserved
from Salt Hill
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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