Aach...ye speak like a poet, but ye punch like one too...

PUNCH LIKE A POET

Monday, May 01, 2006
  
Poem

LAWNMOWER MAN

Halfway through the back yard there's a growl
and kachunk. The whirling grass-wet blade
snarls out the back of the mower like a trained dog
off its chain and chews through his ankles. He crawls
bug eyed with panic through the half-finished manicure
of his lawn. The back porch looms like a sea-cliff.
Cut grass sticks to his face. Even as he swims
his scrabbling hands tell him how the lawn's begun
to grow again. He'll swear he heard it laughing.

(4/30/06)

# posted by Daniel at 12:20 AM.