contraindicated
poetry by Kenneth P. Gurney
Too Big
We took the night out of the sky
and placed it in a stone.
I can hear you thinking
“That cannot be done.”
But, look at this black stone
with its countless diamond like sparkles,
then look up to the void
which, now, is not black or any other color.
“How does that affect the train schedule?”
you ask, a bit concerned.
“Not at all,” I tell you
in my confident teacher voice.
Your shoulders relax now that you know
you have not missed the last commuter
out of Chicago to Wheaton
where your wife will place a late dinner
on the table and ask about your day
over a pleasant glass of tuscan wine.
***
Filched Confession
The termites in the freezer
ate all of the popsicle sticks,
but we let our fingers
get all sticky-messy
eating the popsicles
while the heat
bends the air
above the blacktop road
we lay upon,
knowing the true cross
before its construction
contraindicated
the Christ
as a skeleton key
to pass heaven’s gate
for those of you
planning on staying alive
through all eternity
or, until, the performance artist
completes the rolling hitch knot
in the barbwire
upon his erect penis.