Friday, April 14, 2006

Poem: Making Room

First, God issued me a soul,
And yelled to the drummers
"Let it roll!"

And down down down I went
Within hours, my twig was bent.
Within years, I'd be paying rent.

For what it was worth,
I crowned on earth
And was showing signs

Of showing signs
So they checked to see
If my eyes aligned.

Before I was allowed to bloom,
They had to fill another tomb.
Out with the bad

And in with the good,
They had to make room.
I understood.

[Revised from a poem originally published in 1982. The poem first appeared in Scape Magazine, New York City, 1982]

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