Two Poems

Euclid's Last Stand

Painting by Penelope Rosemont

Broken prisms on the bay
window's sill.

Dogs of dust drop
on grouchy orchids. Birds think

grass is a big casino,
gamble with breeze chips.

Dour-faced, the owl
must have lost. My aunt Cass

looked dour too,
died a millionaire,

not in money, but in her thimble
collection. I stand still

while the Earth flirts
with the sun who one day

will crush it in his hairy arms.
Ah, love! A faint smell of

pomegranates
before that fatal kiss.

 

Fur Breakfast

Art Object by Meret Oppenheim

To gain the friendship of objects,
I beg the vacuum cleaner to swallow me whole.
                                             I'm dangerous

around a cranberry red candy dish.
The furry cup and saucer shame me.
I become both coffee and sugar,

fingers touching the handle.
The cup stretches in a spot of sunlight,
   ripples the sip.