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Poetry

Poem: Rhapsody

Illustration by Ella Corder

Re Frank O’Hara’s “Rhapsody.”

every morning cold coffee and my leaf blower

just the fat policeman in 402 with my

double-wide and basketball shorts (no ball) ripping

the engine like a matador or like a machine

gun walking round and round

my house, kick the deaf-blind goldendoodle in the

fluttering Spring, break the

frost and melt my marriage’s three miscarriages, four if

you count the twin

there are no leaves on the ground or

for that matter masks in the hospital as time slips into

time; the Germans only talk about love when they

talk about people, not coffee or oranges or making—

but I love my body

in my slippers grabbing the Inquirer with a gruff

beard always scratching my head solving a

crime or a baby wondering what’s the use of circling round and round

the streets on patrol

they circle round me when I wake up in the morning

like a cherub on a cloud (cumulonimbus) asking

if I do love oranges if I do love coffee and I drink them down

do twins see the same shapes in clouds? I love them

melting over me but there are lawns to tend and

worlds to traipse in lonely Spring

By Ella

I am an undergraduate junior studying creative writing. I am interested in short fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction and professional writing.

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