The Prisoner’s Got Class

Today I wore black and white stripes to school

the t-shirt of a fledgling jailbird.

I tardily took my seat as they closed the door

and smiled the coy smile of one who has confirmed herself to be

properly dressed for an occasion.


Yellow gorse
the smell of coconut
a bunny in the grass
waiting for me to pass
Unmoving and still
except for his twitching nose
Perhaps he thinks himself
successfully camouflaged or else
he must be exceedingly brave
or exceedingly foolish
Boldly, he holds my gaze
until, smiling, I depart on my way

The Book Collector

The stack of books never ceases to grow

I gaze fondly upon the titles

like one admiring wall art.

Inside one of them, Derek Walcott whispers

that the rustle of tree leaves is a lament

for all the pages of unread books.

This too has become white noise.

I have given over collecting images and ideas

for the satiating vision of prospective knowledge

–the promise of a tomorrow in which those vessels

will unleash all of their finely bound secrets.


– E