s.o.s.

Lately I've been feeling, well, not so strong.
And so (what else?) I've been writing bad poetry.


s.o.s.

gravity is grave indeed:
the day in marbles
—cat's eyes and clearies—
dropped on the hardwood
and still rolling.

and i have the small hope
of a suede sack
and a gatherer
of scattered things.

because i need someone to help pick up—
to stretch a long arm underneath the refrigerator,
to move the table,
to do whatever it takes.