a squirrel sees a landscape
varying at multiple levels

look up to a branch
it’s there

*   *   *

would he go?
would she come?

he’s been there
before              and any good squirrel is wary

let’s be sensible
invoking
misadventures

*   *   *

to be lying flat against
the opposite side of a tree

such a useful skill
he could use at the office

*   *   *

the vampire
or witch

versus

a squirrel
and crossbones

in the exquisite
extrapolation

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.

 

their house and yard
lined a three-block street
that wasn’t straight but
bent, twice, away from due north
or an east-west axis

the squirrels there knew nothing of the next
state or globe     their world of endless
branching comprehends no sphere

each time he leaped, he’d forget who I am
all the same, gravity fashions
a turn toward chaos or quietude
expecting a center-point
it’s a pattern, yes,
the interlocking repetition
say of old wallpaper
shaping a marriage

of course they like flowers
rolls and glue, page after page,
all through the years
yellowing into decades

whatever turns
you on
makes you sorry
rubs nerves
pulling stuff
like that
live and learn
sweet revenge
isn’t you anyway

flaying those arms in Beulah Land

*   *   *

of course it was us versus them

*   *   *

he could hear masons warning new roofing shingles
were needed, pronto, and even he knew what damage a leak
could inflict all before their Great Plumber Shortage
he switched off This Old House episodes where workmen
arrive in time to preclude disaster     his was now nothing
or all kinds of superstition     so his reserves dwindled
even approaching the sump pump     what music, then?
ring around, pocket full of worry
they had a cache of cash

*   *   *

a true adversary
you soon come to resemble

of course he was furious
returning

to the newly replaced crown molding
they’d gnawed through in an hour

while they nested in the wall
his library reeked

*   *   *

“Calm? When are you ever calm?”

 Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.

as a chorus, the pigeons coo
the mockingbird invents endless variations

the vernal pools erupt in peepers
under the lofty moon

*   *   *

there’s no team
named for his kind
or hers

no Mighty Squirrels
on the field
or the court

a squirrel is not a hero figure
no Cary Grant or James Bond
though maybe an outfielder or a forward
as for the ladies?
a swish of ponytail? or a scamper?

yes, we are born naked
with our eyes closed

*   *   *

it’s the grip, after all
to measure
to treasure

*   *   *

tra-la-la
as they sing

only that cartoon character Rocky
with the moose

or the skunks under the barn

awaiting comedy
while the leaves fell

to speak of simultaneous balance
and signaling

                     Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.

Of course complications disrupt and delay
the old house transaction could be an omen
nothing they undertake together would be as simple
as any movie

Of course the vacillation impeded
the insertion of daffodil and hyacinths bulbs from
cobwebbed dreams His Lady of Two Daughters considered
gardens by ambition and suspense

Of course they passed papers and camped overnight
in the empty century-old house a porcelain faucet handle
shattered in His Lady of Mount Olive’s hand nearly severing
her thumb on his birthday like a blood sacrifice sprinkling
the wood floors and they wondered about
her lacking medical insurance, as well

Of course they had no way of foreseeing
the coming weeks his lists and plans
only the beginning as for omens he’d recognize
together resolutely for the long haul

Poem copyright 2015 by Jnana Hodson
To read the full set of squirrelly poems, click here.