For a long time, Captain Hector Barbossa lived in our kitchen cupboard.
During dinner, we heard him eating apples, being disinclined to acquiesce the request of parley, encrusting his peg leg with gold and jewels.
One day he wasn’t there.
“He was just gone, mum”, my daughter said. “He was recognizing that the wind was blowing in his favor, and requesting all sails be made ready to grab as much wind as possible”.
“Maybe”, I asked, “we will see him again?”
“Oh. No”, my daughter said. “But nothing too bad, mum. I’ve invited Harry to come over here before going to Hogwarts. I just sent him a letter by flinging it out of my window for his owl to pick up. You’ll love him.”
the platform 9 & 3/4
on my back
He only played Bach, the music teacher, my neighbor at university.
When I asked why, he answered: “You can be sure that the angels play Bach while praising God in Heaven.”
I laughed. “Oh yeah. So in Hell, when the demons praise Satan they play probably Penderecki.”
the belling of a stag
calling his mate
circling his ‘i’s he
fine toons his (spleen + bleach) speech
on the titanic
…..for our frontline workers some holy water, garlic and a stake…..
to each chair
its own mask
8 o’clock, Thursday evening. From that first tentative ripple of applause through spatulas on frying pans to a smattering of fireworks, the inhabitants of our locked down microcosmic Wonderland can be heard looking out. For each other.
those still working
I would wake up inside a peony small like an elf and it’s sunday
two pinkish mice
track for mask parcels
Asleep all day.
Awake all night.
Alive. (In spite of a certain FaceTime tea party.)
out of the frying pan–
no one to bellyache
From the car speaker, a recorded voice of a municipal employee repeats again: “stay at home”… the orwellian visions are overwhelming.
I wake up
into the silence
I believe that if we were to remove one element of this poem—–whether the rainwater, chickens, or wheelbarrow—-all of us would die. The universe would be all wrong.
a matter of where you are a rainbow
Joseph Salvatore Aversano