Monday, August 13, 2012

NEW! Poem by J. Hope Stein

J. Hope Stein


Sometimes I can hear Husband turn his pages 
faster than mine & I
become irritated—
& throw a book across the room—

an ember
in husband’s eye that rounds his balls.

“Come here, sensitive, we are 
both turning
because the mind is turning...”

Save it for the factory, husband! 
Only animal pantomime
& balloons, please.

Husband moves like an inchworm 
across the carpet.
Does his best monkey.
Motions as if to offer a string connected 

to something in sky
& I take it.

We act as two animals holding invisible balloons. 

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