“Flower in the Junkyard” Frank Rubino

Hello, and happy Monday! It’s the last week of the semester so we won’t bother you with a long intro to this teaser (except to say that you should check it out!).

Frank Rubino is a performing poet from New Jersey, where he lives with his wife and four children. He’s been active since 1982, with readings at numerous locations around New York. His work has appeared in Vending Machine, DMQ Review, The Cape Rock, Caliban Online, Caveat Lector, The World, Little Light, and New Directions.

FLOWER IN THE JUNKYARD

 

Colored badges on the oatmeal lapels

of life’s apparatchiks,

 

soft power-gum in hotel-world’s puke carpets.

 

My eyes

 

hunt sparkle. Hints

of food or sex,

when my eyes

bring eventful color

to my brain.

 

Animals come to my eyes, they please me

in the Meadowlands, they make reflections

in the water.

 

The autocrat snows.

Whitened at the end,

when it’s the big shootout.

 

Sight flips the upside-down,

reverses the backwards,

 

catches the line

with the fish.

 

Like the time

Giuliani wore a ball gown and pulled Trump’s

nose into his bosom.