The Football Games of Your Tomorrow
Kind of candlestick in the mud-
Hoary light in the swamp
Turning undone,
As the housewives moan like alley cats in their
Beds of predestination:
As they seem for awhile lost, pill bugs underneath
The covers,
As their pools glow altogether as if infected diamonds-
And their canals move slower
Filled to the brim with narcoleptic mermaids
And the fabershe cenotaphs of likeminded conquistadors:
See how the moon glowers over their
Strange visage swimming in the mud:
Each one with a candle undone just beneath the skim-
As the tadpoles dance
Innocent of what they will become,
And the minnows wander around aimlessly perhaps
Dreaming of the footballs games of your tomorrow.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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