Three Poems
by Jon Roche
My Uncle is a Cyborg
The stubborn Irishman, a retired auto mechanic
who survived polio in his youth and is mostly deaf
and has lived alone, with only a spaniel for company,
since my aunt died,
crawls down two flights of stairs
crawls out the door
then, propping himself up by the elbows,
somehow manages to get into the seat of his riding mower
which he employs as a starship
to traverse the galactic distance between house and car.
Then it’s off to the store.
He refuses assisted living or the pleas of his relatives.
He’s not ashamed to crawl
but will never beg.
His home is his starship, he firmly believes,
and on wheels
he’s the king of the cosmos
Digital Bop
Now that we’re all
slaves of the algo-
rithm
Can we still hear
any beat but
the 010101010101010101 to infinity
damnable disco drum machine
lurking
behind
Mozart CD
Chaplin DVD
Public TV
Political POV
?
Don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing
The Pope of Neverland
Call the hearer of confessions,
The wispy one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups Jesus Juice and concupiscent curds.
Let the altar boys dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the butler
Bring them Big Macs in Happy Meal containers.
Let seem be finale of Beat It.
The only pope is the pope of Neverland.
Take from the dealer in Disney,
Lacking a buyer, that blanket
On which was embroidered Micky Mouse once
And spread it so as to cover his face.
If his horny ears protrude, they come
To show how bewitched he is, and dumb.
Let CNN affix its beam.
The only pope is the pope of Neverland.
About the Author
John Roche is an Associate Professor at Rochester Institute of Technology. These three poems appear in his 2008 book Topicalities, and two have appeared separately in Jack Magazine and Le Mot Juste. "The Pope of Neverland" is a parody of the Wallace Stevens' classic, "The Emperor of Ice Cream."
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