Four Poems
Dindi at the Clean-Well Laundromat
I play the pinball game
in the corner by the dryers.
Water slurgs my clothes
and heat kisses my socks.
I never win
a free game—most things
are rigged but some offer
flashing lights
and good buzz
while gymnast clothes
tumble
over each other.
Dindi in the Remake of The Seventh Seal
Our director demands more
special effects, blows up Sweden
every ten minutes. Cars race
even though this is centuries ago.
And Bergman’s version is
too depressing—we prefer
Dancing With The Stars. In my
big scene, I confess my sins and
accept The Lord. Studly knight
reunites with his family and Sweden
transforms into Oklahoma,
porch-snoring grannies. A pink
barn door sky opens. Painfully
thin models wave and pose.
Omnipresent
I’m a movie God
watches over and over,
pauses at the sexy parts,
fixes on a frame, writes down
what I say and do, dips
into rusted coffee cans
of my thoughts, can’t stop
his watching any more than
a pulled trigger can retrieve
a bullet.
Sorghum Vinegar
Dindi tells her sister Mary Anne
that she hates three things
about herself:
1) I’m unable to enjoy
Nature, prefer cigarette
smoke to water falls.
2) I do most fun things
with my eyes closed: sex,
scary films, even showers.
3) Aunt Moon says she hates
few things. Not me. Hate
is like eating. I’m never full.
Mary Anne is endlessly sweet,
a smile on a rifle butt.
Friends want her to say
It’ll get better. Dindi is
vinegar, Mary Anne sorghum.
Mix them
And you get the greatest
salad dressing.
—Ken Pobo, Media, PA
