John Libertus Poems
The Song Of The Unicorn
I remember feeding you and talking,
in the silence that the stroke
left you for speech, trying to tell you
what I had tried for decades
to put in words:
you're my sweet treasure, you're the Gift
Love gave to me, and in this tiny room,
with nothing to show for hope,
the only faith of Man
expressed in Food Stamps,
as I bathe you, and for you, open the window
to birdsong, and fresh, spring air,
no man's riches compare with mine.
It was so hard on you;
so little you could give,
save what you did:
trying to start all over,
willing to ...
The Sunnyland Express
I can't see up close, anymore, without glasses;
I think that's why I bought the motorcycle.
Now, when I wake alone, in the dark before dawn,
instead of wondering why God left me here,
I can look out the kitchen window
at that black beast gleaming on the sidewalk
and wonder why I bought the motorcycle.
My sons and daughters, now become
the grownups of the family, are bound to say