Wikipedia Poem, No. 347

“The lobsters in the pot are screaming / Inside the reddening roar. / Your aproned ghost keeps boiling more, keeps boiling more, / And turns to serve the gore.” Frederick Seidel

 

to
quarter
the weather

hence
quarter
the hull of the ship

a nautical order
keeps weather
a distant blip

apart aloof a gage
of windy thrusts
keeps the quartered slip

quartered further against
the gage of rain
from gagging grip

“The sky is a very bad parent”

The sky is a very bad parent
impatient, grinding its teeth, hyperventilating 
as its baby wahs and wails and flails 
and vomits all over its parent's prettiest things
and the parent grabs its little darling
a little too tight
a taut smile a slight tear
traps it under an arm and marches into the kitchen
opens the dark chemical cabinet under the sink 
tosses in the nuisance 
like a lightning-chopped tree trunk crushes a two-family home
claps the cabinet closed.