Things He Can Do Which I Can’t

He can make a knife out of cardboard and a clothespin.
With wood scraps he can build a death-ray gun.
A banana is a telephone.
The floor is burning hot lava. The furniture, islands.
He can swim in a bathtub.
With one paper and three pens he can fight a whole war.
He can sleep when there is no money.
He can cuddle in a lap to make everything right
and, you know? I think it is.

 

About the Poet:  Joe Cottonwood has worked in one building trade or another – carpenter, plumber, electrician – since 1976. Nights, he writes. He lives with his high school sweetheart in La Honda, California, where they built a house and raised a family under (and at mercy of) giant redwood trees. More at joecottonwood.com.

 

Poetry Breakfast accepts submissions of poetry and poetry related creative non-fiction year-round.  See our Submission Guidelines page for details on submitting your work.

Start your morning with a nourishing poem.  Follow us on  Twitter, Facebook, and  Tumblr,  and enjoy a new poem every morning straight to your feed.

Advertisements