Cookie-cutter roofs defy the critics
With block conformity
And mass appeal.
The HOA rules Middle Earth
With threats and fines.
Cracked foundations flood
Carpets and faux wood floors
With sewer water.
Middle Earth huddles
Under red tiles
During wind, rain, and hail.
Odors of cooking and nature callings
Stink rooms with familiar blends.
The widow next door
Is skilled at playing invisible.
She hides behind locks
And memories of tiny dogs
Sharing her bed.
She barely remembers
That thin man from accounting.
A backyard gull
Gobbles my pepperoni offering
Served off the railroad tie.
Drink green tea at 2pm
Before the storm kicks up.
The day pauses
Before welcoming Easter clouds,
White heavies sent in by Heaven.
Praise be to God.
Study uncut grass
Through sliding glass.
Live your prison life
With siblings and parents,
Mind and spirit boxed
Like a sugared cereal
Awaiting mouths.
About the Author
KIRBY WRIGHT was born and raised in Honolulu, Hawaii. He is a graduate of Punahou School in Honolulu and the University of California at San Diego. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University. Wright has been nominated for five Pushcart Prizes and is a past recipient of the Honolulu Weekly Nonfiction Award, the Jodi Stutz Memorial Prize in Poetry, the Ann Fields Poetry Prize, the Academy of American Poets Award, the Robert Browning Award for Dramatic Monologue, Arts Council Silicon Valley Fellowships in Poetry and The Novel, and the Redwood Empire Mensa Award for Creative Nonfiction.
