Tuesday, January 6, 2009

a muse

Two more poems:

“A cough,” I explained with a hack,
“is a lot like an old hacky sack.
People pass it around.”
Sage grumbled and frowned.
It was her cough. She wanted it back.


Sage pretty much knows
where everything goes.
She’s got enough info to go on:
dresses in dressers,
books in the bookcase,
toys in the toilet, and so on.