Martha Silano

People Are Doing It As We Speak

Near that pumpkin patch just off the interchange in Fall City.
In a swamp beside that Gumbo Limbo in Boca Raton. Opening

their Kama Sutras, saddling up for the Congress of the Cow.
Storming fire stations, eyeing the hook and ladder,

clanging the bells. At home, they're fixing to glue the kids
to Bob the Builder , climbing (quickly) the bedroom stairs,

before the youngest unleashes a dozen Tampax,
swirls a string in each ecstatic hand ("Look, mama-I'm fishing!").

With their carpet beaters, with their spatulas, they're positioning themselves
for the Splitting of a Bamboo. Like two wing-to-wing silvery blues,

they've dreamed up a new use for the golden onions,
for the skewered, roasting bird. Though they can't quite figure out

Perfuming the Garden, though the video's gone fuzzy, they're down
on all fours, not quite gone berserk but good enough.