Poetry of Issue #5                        Page 2
Table of Contents	1. Seventeen Ropes Seventeen ropes  hang  from the sky       A rush to ascend! The clouds strain but are  willing  to hold the aspirers Yet, three fall to  the depths  smash as puzzled dogs watch   content to stare, lick their  paws shake debris from their coats No one knows exactly where they are going like sailors, arm over arm, shimmying up masts, But who can judge the fervor the passion their  pointed aim for the goal? And it goes on each year   The trapeze is a new diversion dare devils defy physical limits  their bodies displayed in impossible flight But the main act  coercing the sky to hold  a display of heavy bodies continues as they clutch the illusion of ropes    their notion a picture  a mistake like the air   packaged but not quite sold   Roberta Gould__	2. Alive Snippets of incipient oak leaves strewn on the ground A dog steps over stitched and stapled after surgery her life given back New day new rain a shirt to keep her incision dry Shad Bush flowers The air’s filled with song Tree stamens soaked and bitten off their little branches on the ground She steps over them, too.   Roberta Gould__	3. Epiphany No explosion Just a  thorn pricked the balloon And it  burst Poor thing! How it hung  lifeless thin rubber strips   Roberta Gould__ _____________________________     5. Elements Floating Off     The clock in the box floated off     This was a dream of No Die     Tomorrow strode in on stilts     The dead laughed in their gloves     Charred trusses from a fire torn roof     held nests of migrating birds     Boarded windows in the stone walls below     were the start of another life     The sun grew stronger each hour     a bowl full of lilies bloomed     Snails emerged from the dark     The clock in the box floated off       Roberta Gould__	4. First Bird Its tail bobs Soon it will check the slatted wall to affix its masterful nest as its ancestors did I don’t tell its name It’s Babel as usual we don’t uderstand and kill each other But that’s not it It’s that I forgot! can only present its call with a whistle and fail Paper won’t do either and the word’s cyber tool… sent with magical ease giving no more than myself   Roberta Gould ______________________________     6. Elements     How narrow the funnel’s mouth is     It clogs with dross     We live with bad water     The air cries out       Roberta Gould