Some throw-away children's poems and a non-autobiographical bit of cliché.

The Death of the Elephant

The elephant's back legs waggled
as her front legs scrabbled
and her trunk groped
but ultimately she fell
off the counter-top.


Voila! I have made rainbow spaghetti!
A noodle for every bend.
You see there
Red Orange Yellow Green Blue Indigo and Violet.
The ones you don't see are infra-red and ultra-violet.

It was time to count the petals

The tulips stooped,
old women bent in half by arthritis.
Once-bright petals crinkled and brown,
proud stems hollow and folded.

Rings of white above the dingy water
counted off the last hot days of summer.

She had glanced at them
-a moment-
on our anniversary,
before displaying them in a vase
on a shelf
in the library.

I spent the next two weeks watching them die.