Source

Simon Says "Pick Up Your Laundry"
By Stephen Martin

An angular salt,
Corrupted by misplacement
And gathered in a pile
The size of
A Beebee–

You, the smoking
Chopsticks,
Scissoring friction,
At speeds unattainable
By most–

Desolation, spinning at a rack,
Bobbin of the sometimes many,
Feasted on by barracuda;
Littered coins on busy
Streets–

I the raven
Caw at heady dawn,
Flagrant in mocking despair;
The spooning man questions
The source
Of grey gimlets–

Open my gullet
And pour–
The miser is pinioned to the bedpost;
Take his hand
From out the barber’s laughing comb,
Take his lids upon the glass
Of time,
And slither back to the meeting place.

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