May 18, 2016
Share:
Life with its sorrow, life with
its tear.
And you know what that
means:
the sky in a drawer . . .
Life with its sorrow, life with its tear.
And you know what that means:
the sky in a drawer,
the underwear underworld
on the floor of the moon.
Under the emergency lamps a small panic was growing,
keeping to itself, chiming
ahead of your headlights, wobbly.
You had just gotten so young
it was all I could do to contain you
in the linen dishtowel we kept for that purpose.
The doctor prescribed bed rest.
The cash cow is a going concern,
the intake not dangerous enough
that you folks enjoy.
It’s not immortality,
these mechanical trees, alders.
Good to know you’re not killing them all yourself
across the street baby.
While we have you...
...we need your help. While reading A Disservice by John Ashbery, you might have noticed the absence of paywalls at Boston Review. We are committed to staying free for all our readers. We've also gone one step further and become completely ad-free. This means you will always be able to read us without roadblocks or barriers to entry. It also means that we rely on you, our readers, for support. If you like what you read here, pledge your support to keep it free for everyone by making a tax-deductible donation.
May 18, 2016
