Four poems

    I’ve Come to Help You

I've come to help you, she said,

The wind is strong and it might

Blow you over. I don't want you to fall.

Two others called out:

First: Man, she's taking care of you;

Then: You're one lucky guy today.

She held out her elbow for

Him to take. They left

The building, headed for his car.

Watch your step, this wind

Is fierce. He tightened his hold

On her arm. Thanks, he said.

The southern sky was robin's egg blue;

Black clouds were approaching from the north.

In between, weather-making wind was buffeting.

Here we are, she said, opening his door.

He slid safely into the driver's seat,

Kissing his forehead, she patted his shoulder.

Made it! he shouted ceremoniously.

We usually do, she smiled.

He inserted the key into the ignition.

             

 Immanuel

The folk invoke their Immanuel.

Immanuel, Immanuel, God be with us!

Oprah, Oprah, the Barbies exult.

They wait for Judge Judy,

Then quiver in rapture

When the Judge and the Bird emerge.

Tyra, Tyra, the Thumbelinas praise!

On another stage Ellen conjures

The Believers' spirits,

Then they arise and rejoice.

Each time the floor director gives

The cue, the people go to a

Perfect world, riding My

Little Pony to Eden. A fulfilled

Life begins by pulling a string

Grounded in a memory chip.

Family Circle

At a round rest stop table

The usual can of pork

And beans, plain, nothing added

To make them seem more

Than they were, was the only side.

The mother prepared simple

Bologna sandwiches, neat,

With no mayo or lettuce,

And the ordinary meal

Became a summer picnic:

It was an unbroken circle,

Singing songs of childhood.

They were like westward

Pioneers who stopped

Someplace near here decades sooner

To locate themselves

In a family way.

      Standing in the snow

Nothing read on a screen can

Be considered anything like

A book, he said with a tenacious

Grip on certainty. A book is

A book is a book; it has pages

And it has a spine, he grumbled.

Books use words, of course,

Not pixels. To hold a book,

He said, just feels good.

Why do you suppose people

Created screens? I asked.

He was wearing sandals

Like a young man years earlier

Standing in the snow at

Hadrian's Wall, the pride

Of Rome and the civilized

World. He looked at me with

Imperious eyes and grunted:

They didn't do it for me.