The Porcupine – Lent Nineteen

Kris Haas zatista.com

Kris Haas zatista.com

He wears his anger
like a mail-shirt
at once a defense against
the flaming dart of any critic
again a bold offense against
a world fascinated by transparency
A porcupine, he moves freely
in and about the community
yet no one embraces him
in fact all are afraid of him
it is the way everyone likes it
He resides not in a house
but within his own brilliant mind
is married to no spouse
but is his own better-half
between the cold sheets of that intimacy
he spawns ideas as children which adore him
which obey him perfectly without instruction
These he introduces proudly as his protégés
His degrees assure him that he will not only
be allowed to officiate at his own funeral
but also to be the executor of his own estate
of which he is the sole surviving heir
and for which he has commissioned
a large bronze life-like statue guaranteed
to withstand the onslaught of eternity
It is with some curiosity & no little amusement
that the neighbors look on the man
while taking his afternoon scone & tea
in the shade of town’s ancient linden tree
he is suddenly approached by the wild dog
the coyote which brazenly sniffs foot to knee
then plops down tongue lapping at the man’s feet

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About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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