Two Poems

Alice at Eighty

Her body has become
An alphabet of woes:
That blood thumps now
That once purred like
A kitten.

All sags, her knees;
Her breasts which once
Shattered his repose
When he first saw here
And was smitten.

Yet, there is still a light
That shines within her eyes
That stirs him still no
Matter how he tries – and,
Oh, he tries.
 
 
 
 
Jaws: ad Nauseum

Sam Walton’s heirs, like sharks
In a feeding frenzy, tear (with
Gaping maws) great gobbets of flesh
From another local How-to-Hardware.

Its bloodied corpse turns and turns
In the roiling tide.

All along Main Street America
Empty stores litter the landscape
Like overturned umbrellas, broken
On deserted beaches.