The Showers Pouring
Pure torture shackled Prometheus
In front of the television in the middle-
Of South Florida:
The carpet red, the curtains velvet,
The air-conditioning expensive blowing.
The brochures said for a short holiday,
But the ants have already found the cracks
And trail of breadcrumbs, so along his
Grayish shanks they are crawling;
He quivers trying to remain politely
Knowing there are gods about, though maybe
They’ve all gone down the street where
He can hear the lions roaring, and there
Was just a car-accident, and the ambulance is
Coming, and right now the studio audience
Is laughing, and above him like so many
Hindu gods, the ceiling fans are pirouetting;
And Cupid and Psyche are chewing bubble-gum
Over by the piano, playing awful romancing.
The cat is purring, and the dog is snoring,
And coming later that same afternoon
The showers pouring.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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