Michael Rothenberg

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THE NERVE OF THEM ALL

charity begins at home
scrambled eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes

some kind of anthology
pick up stuff you dropped on the floor
nice and easy, now upsy-daisy

go to jail, you're one short
who are you? what do you want?

on the phone, I'm talking
come to lunch. call. let's talk about stuff

what a crush, crash rush

that was an heirloom

and never the least bit valuable
stand up. touch your toes
she calls and you go back to sleep

to make a name for yourself

             oddly enough

IN PASSING

small turns torn

one day wrong

worn inside out

flying winged

gone from sight

there a minute

ago, a thing of

feathers and sky-

light, blue-gray

screwing up the

restful eyes, shy

apparition

some kind of bird

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