Michael Estabrook- Three Poems

 Terrifying

I hear the drilling and grinding
in the next room
can almost smell it
while the dentist endeavors
to be calming, encouraging, conciliatory even
her little voice trying to cooperate
between the high-pitched whining
of the torture device.
But her fear comes seeping through
loud and clear
and I’m holding myself back
from barging in there and beating the crap
out of the fucking bastard
for hurting my girl.

The Sun

Visiting his old home town

decades later

he’s been dying to drive by old

Smith’s Orchard & Pig Farm

and the ice cream stand

he worked at

those summers so long ago.

But it’s gone now

all of it replaced

by an endless housing development

full of big houses in neat rows

all uniform and clean shining

in the bright sun

which makes his eyes water too.

Inanity

He doesn’t watch the news

because it’s awful, sad, frightful

and frightening, depressing

and mindlessly redundant

and most of the “anchors”

are clueless idiots

more concerned

with their own celebrity

than reporting the news.

Although many of

the “newswomen” are pretty

some even have long legs

and cute bottoms.


Michael Estabrook is a recently retired baby boomer poet freed finally after working 40 years for “The Man” and sometimes “The Woman.” No more useless meetings under florescent lights in stuffy windowless rooms. Now he’s able to devote serious time to making better poems when he’s not, of course, trying to satisfy his wife’s legendary Honey-Do List.