Dear town committee:
I heard of the opening for poet laureate in our community, and hope that you will consider me for the position. In support of this request I am offering several fragments of the type of poetry that the laureate will have to produce for a modest suburban town.
Sincerely yours,
O Countertop of Plexiglass and beveled vinyl Seat—
Promote your gleaming Plush! Proclaim to all who wake,
Who breathless for the opening on Monday at the least
Must hail the Merchant who assails our Town to stake
Her Storefront in the Thoroughfare with many a Hair Salon.
Indeed your Formulæ for fullsome Shape, your Quest
For Permanents, will rally us your Art to call upon,
To bear your Craft atop our Crowns and judge it best!
…
tick ~ keep your pace as
clock tick ~ forty-eight minutes spent on
the exception, four times
of that on the
reorganization of
the purchasing office—
clock tick ~ bear witness, timepiece, to
men’s endlessly niggling dreads
…
A playground on rubber surface boxes its schoolchildren. I sell
real estate, bouncing across town past the Boys and Girls Club. New
balconies for consultants, alcoves for data scientists. A tower to the sky
and let us make for us a name. Yes, the playground cacophonates
but only twice a day and on weekends. A monument to diligent predation
in the flood plain of the metropolis. Wave to the darkened playground
on mornings, watch the horticulturist’s verbena wilt in
afternoons. Two blocks from the bus that heads every twelve minutes,
when it does, to the bloated city. Also stores and services.
And—the hair salon
…
Andy Oram
November 1, 2019