The Crew Change

By DON SHARE

 

Hobo, Bono, boneheap.
I mutilate dandelions in the sun,
rattle my rake like a saber

When Michelle-my-neighbor,
over compost, opines
that Aqualung’s a classic;

“At least I think so. U2?”
Does she mean: me, too?
In the foul rag and compost pile

Of my creaky abdomen I rustle
all the leaves of my locomotive breath
to agree because anything you say,

Michelle, must be so!  We live
in a time of need. Your hair always
looks brushed. Our conversations

Are abrupt. And yet…
The children grow and play over time
like centipedes behind our sofas;

The tools I never use seem
delightful on their pegs in the shed,
like the hopes I sharpened

Once beside the gleaming rails
as a schoolboy, a hiker, a little hobo never
far from someone’s back yard trampoline.

 

Don Share is Senior Editor of Poetry. His books include Squandermania (Salt Publishing), Union (Zoo Press), Seneca in English (Penguin Classics), and most recently a new book of poems, Wishbone (Black Sparrow) and Bunting’s Persia (Flood Editions, a 2012 Guardian Book of the Year.

Click here to purchase Issue 01

The Crew Change

Related Posts

Image of the book cover of The Morning Line, featuring a man wearing a hat.

September 2021 Poetry Feature: David Lehman’s The Morning Line

DAVID LEHMAN
You can pick horses on the basis of their names / and gloat when Justify wins racing’s Triple Crown / or when, in 1975, crowd favorite Ruffian, “queen / of the century,” goes undefeated until she breaks down / in a match race with Derby winner Foolish Pleasure.

Bogota

Translation: Poems by María Paz Guerrero

MARÍA PAZ GUERRERO
Time fills with holes / and puts the scarce body / into one of them // It covers its skeleton of wind / so the current / doesn’t rub against its prickly outside // The air would split into smithereens / if it were touched by the spines // It doesn’t seek to become cuts on the cheek