Role Reversal.
We’ll see what’s really at stake
when we give the Bull the red cape.
Steal the sheers from the Man,
and he’ll cry, “Mercy me,” to the Lamb.
We’ll see who really fights fair,
when the Lion holds the Tamer’s chair.
The Show-Horse saddles the Cowgirl,
and wraps the reins in braids with her curls.
“Do unto others as you’d have done unto you,”
is just another saying
like a Hallmark Holiday and
Capitol Hill
is made of shrapnel and pills;
If Love’s a game—-why is nobody playing?
—————-
Like the cobbler’s son
who needs new shoes,
the stewardess wants
the window’s view.
The sailor sighs
at a sandcastle;
his worried wife
kissed the weather channel.
The brakeman scoffs
at the passing tracks.
The surgeon coughs
and lights a cigarette.
The poets curse
at their half-full glass.
The desert thirsts
for the storms that pass.
But I, the Sound,
sing for you, the Sight.
And my Mo(u)rning drowns
in your kiss, goodnight.
