COUNSELOR: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CALLER: My wife’s new pink slippers
have gay pom-poms.
COUNSELOR: Is it any of your business? And how can you tell?
CALLER: There is not a spot or a stain
on their satin toes or their sides.
COUNSELOR: Hmm. But they could be metrosexual.
CALLER: All night they lie together
under her bed’s edge.
COUNSELOR: OK, that’s more convincing. But slippers just stay together.
CALLER: Shivering I catch sight of them
CALLER: and smile,
COUNSELOR: I’m glad you’re comfortable with it. But please don’t watch them. They may want their privacy.
Read the original here
I seem to have eaten the plums
you were saving ’til morningtime comes–
so sweet, and so cold.
So, now that we’re old,
forgive me for acting so dumb?
in the icebox
to start with.
COUNSELOR Poetry Crisis Line. What is your emergency?
CALLER: I have eaten / the plums / that were in / the icebox…
COUNSELOR: This is the Poetry Crisis Line, sir. did you want Poison Control?
CALLER: …and which / you were probably / saving / for breakfast.
COUNSELOR: Did you mean to call the cafeteria? I can transfer you.
CALLER: Forgive me.
COUNSELOR: I’m not here to judge you, sir. What’s important is that you forgive yourself.
CALLER: They were delicious…
COUNSELOR: I’m glad to hear it.
CALLER: …so sweet…
COUNSELOR: And how this is a problem, sir?
CALLER: …and so cold.
COUNSELOR: I see. If the plums are too cold, you could try eating other types of fruit–if you feel you’re up for it. Do you dare to eat a peach?