Joe Somoza
A New You

What kind of shoe
is a "pump", I'm thinking,
and I think it
out loud enough
for the cat to look over
and wonder,
distracted a moment
from his preening.
I guess I would be diligent too
if I had only one fur.
You want to look good
for the world, whether it's a very green
yard with inky shade under the trees,
or along Central Park, where 5th Avenue buses
emerge from the blur
to make you think yours
is coming
and you'll soon be
exhibiting yourself
at the window, as you pass by.
You become part of the scene
for a while,
that can be glamorous
or gritty
depending on your mood
that shifts with the clouds and your
blood pumping,
harnessing chemical reactions
that slough off old cells
and rebuild
a new you
every few days--inside
the everyday you
that keeps growing old.

Kingdom #2

Ah, the gray sweatshirt carelessly
over the picnic bench!
And when the lawnmower stops
to re-fuel, other noises,
such as the dove dialogues
concerning existence
and stereotyping.
The quietly musing robin
perched photogenically beside the brown
Christmas tree that, tragically,
was not converted to pulp.

Spring must have sprung, shout
the young tumbleweeds in their flax hair
and lithe limbs, who don't know
lawnmowers or having their family
uprooted. You can peck in a tree
or sharpen your claws there
and the bark
doesn't care, thinks the housefly,
testing his footpads.
Where sunlight comes from and how
it arrives.
How the wind makes it cool.
Day into night until--one day--
life! The ocean
carved out of the moon
yearns for the moon.