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A Poem a Day to Millennium
 21 September 1999
 
 

SCREAMING, SHRIEKING

 
Another Sunday morning,
the dark roof of sleep
just melted.  In my
newspaper skillet, events
cook to a crisp.  Time

to dash into the garden
to trowel up hope. While
cleomes set seed, naughty
mariettas take psychedelic
sun.  Round and round
they spin.  Or seem to.
I slip back indoors
since it's happening again--

screaming, shrieking,
threats and counter-threats.
Her sobbing.  Her husband
storming out to the van

and driving away,
away toward inflatable red
dusk.

- Kenneth Pobo


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