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The Babies In Summer
With each new poem that he composes
He will change at once the linen on his bed
Then go to the town, to the telegraph office:
"There's lead in the pencil yet" he says
Through brass bars gleaming in the sunlight
"And accompany it with the usual, please."
"The usual being, Sir?" "Ten dead roses."
At the store he stocks up on a few provisions
Then heads out of town, taking leave of his seat
As the buckboard bucks at a poorly laid plank
And the sun goes down on the road right ahead
Like an eye growing drowsier and drowsier until—
The desert having flooded with jelly-red water—
The road has come to nothing and taken him with it.
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Andrew Elliott was born in 1961. He is working on
a second collection.