Thursday, August 25, 2011
Get Me to God*
Now,
I’m sixty-four,
and slower,
so slow.
I can feel the shaking
on its way,
even before the lovely
orange orangutan.
It starts in the soles of my feet
planted on the good earth
and follows
my toes,
calves, thighs, every muscle,
like a good massage and
commences to shaking,
yelling
freight train epithets
and I am glad,
plain glad,
to have met such a quake.
It is, therefore,
and altogether a shame,
to have to announce the news
that said earthquake
happened
two days ago under
an altogether different
set of circumstances. Give praise.
*Title honors Lucinda Williams
Labels:
Lucinda Williams,
poetry
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