Current Poem

They're poisoning the atmosphere 
now you and I've split, 
coming out of the dark
to make those acid remarks
to all and sundry
because they're trying to get something clear.
The mistletoe puts up its mitts 

now you and I've split. 

The black oaks jostle

bark on careworn bark

to make those acid remarks

at the Christmas party

and the mistletoe puts up its mitts

to vie for the sweet-throated throstle 

where the black oaks jostle 

over a back fence

in the industrial park.  

As they make those acid remarks 

in the third-floor Ladies

and vie for the sweet-throated throstle,

the black oaks seem no less tense 

over a back fence 

than the chestnuts dishing the dirt.

Even the sweet-throated lark

will make those acid remarks

to all and sundry,

seeming no less tense

than so many introverts, 

than the chestnuts dishing the dirt 

down by the water cooler

about our being found stark

naked in the copy-room. Such acid remarks

at the Christmas party.

Like so many introverts,

like all the other carpoolers 

down by the water cooler,  

the chestnuts cough up their lungs

and hint that it's only the payroll clerks

would make such acid remarks

in the third-floor Ladies.

Like all those other carpoolers,

the maples wag their tongues 

and cough up their lungs 

because they're trying to get something clear.

Something about our rekindling the spark

being the burden of their acid remarks

to all and sundry.

The maples wag their tongues.

They're poisoning the atmosphere.

from Paul Muldoon's Plan B