Mostly Poetry — Poetry Mostly

"I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack"

Month: May, 2013

Donald Oswald Alexander was his name

but his coworkers just called him by his initials–D O A

because they didn’t bother

no one bothered

 

Every day he drove to work alone

remained in his cubicle, alone–except for the phone calls he made

drove home alone

to his apartment, alone

 

He really was a good person

but no one bothered to notice,

just left him alone

 

One day he decided to walk to work

for a change

for fresh air

to see other people walking

 

He saw a little boy too

crossing the street

he fell

Donald Oswald Alexander ran to help

he stopped to pick the boy up

the bus didn’t stop

 

An ambulance came–

eventually

the boy was fine

 

When Donald Oswald Alexander was finally wheeled into the hospital

he was still

just

D. O. A.

 

Each morning I walk on sidewalks

wait for green lights

just to see it–

just to see the monument–

of him.

Each morning I stand in awe

One morning, with the sun

just right, I saw

the reflection

of the eyes

in a mirrored skyscraper.

I cannot admire that which worships itself

The flower does not wilt, no.

But she struggles.

She sucks water from the ground, of course,

but she needs more.

She needs rain.

She asks not that the water fills her veins for her–she can do that herself–

She merely asks for the means.

To fill her veins to turgor.

Turgor, she needs.