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The Blog Bog

The Mag Rack


Failed Task

They will
with theirs
(whatever that is)
set it right

I hurry with my own pretty box
(tripartite and pretty)
but the day intervenes

and I do not succeed
Breathless, I
pull myself up the flowering bank

The little box
is floating down river
See! Its spangled cover
glistens in the sun

       Roberta Gould

No Ritalin Please

Wonder if it's really come down to this
to where you should be
rocking till sunset in a wooden chair
yawning at the face of the moon?

No coded labels for you
when you smashed dolls
and bared your flat breast to the sky
away from your apartment dwelling

No letters connect you to drug store
and they let you alone
your name the only marker
in a world of miracle and pain

Still you slipped into line like a good girl
and drank your milk as society prescribed

If you still have your mouth and your heart left
Don't take them for granted
Eyes peering hands ever ready
to grab and to own you,
alas, have not gone away

        Roberta Gould

City Dweller

An early start's no guarantee these days
and though the sun's still down when I get up
to poke around the pots or wash a cup
may be the due reward that morning pays

And that's all right! Disinterested I muse
when household choring or while watching birds
that on the terrace feed on more than words
With nothing in my hand I'll never lose

At noon the sun is brilliant on the leaves
of downtown trees that serve their squirrels well
I hear the mellow sound of a tapped bell
Content in hearing what my ear receives

This city dweller, flat, desires no peak
And though the day grows dim, won't call it blea

        Roberta Gould