innocence and murder and pride sat around in the garden
they were contemplating all the green money
falling like birds out of the beautiful sky
what a paint pot said pride
there's enough currency to wallpaper heaven
he began sticking twenties to a rosebush
it looked like a terrible toupee
innocence said nothing
glue and feathers were stuck to her eyes
she chewed on a bone so long
we all thought the universe was going to crack open
why the long face? asked murder
he reached for the nearest pair of scissors
with his long transparent hands
let's make some news! said murder
and he went up into the sky
and he poked a perfectly round hole
into the perfectly green cloud
no more beautiful sky!
out of the hole poured oil

©2003, George Wallace

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George Wallace is a Long Island poet and the editor/publisher of Poetrybay, “an on~line poetry magazine for the 21st century.”

Next page > “Lunch at the Rose Garden,” a poem by nnenko > page 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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