Saturday, December 7, 2013

Michael Cluff- Two Poems

Septet Remolded

The elbow-patched bespectacled English community college professor
knots his paisley tie so perfectly
the dimple cries out painfully
the wingtips pinch
humanity into

Bed I.

The beds have been unused
since Aunt Millicent died in 1987
over in  Ashton
and Dad in 1999 here
in Hadley Mountain
the mattresses now storage space
for clothes baskets
unopened mail-order book packages
and mismatched shoes, socks
bell bottoms.

Sleeping on the fabrics
underneath and over each
when they passed on
is too stippled
even for a misanthrope
like me.

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