When I married Stan, we
honeymooned on Triton, a lovely
hotel built from frozen nitrogen. Oh,
that was grand. 235 degrees
below zero made us cling tightly.
Lonely Neptune captured Triton.
It worked out well for everyone.
Stan and I plan a second honeymoon.
This time we’ll jump on a methane
ice trampoline, hold each other
with every leap, kiss in mid-air
the way Nereid and Naiad do
when our telescopes have
gone to sleep.
DULCET TONES COMES OUT TO HIS UNRESPONSIVE DAD
Dad, if I tell you I’m the fig newton
in the box of raisin cookies,
will you get it then?
You’re a mailbox,
a slot that can’t be opened.
I’m the letter falling
on the sidewalk. Still,
I keep trying to get through–
we’ll be better friends then.
The mail will arrive,
all of it.
Kenneth Pobo has a new book forthcoming from Assure Press called Uneven Steven. His work has appeared in: Amsterdam Review, The Fiddlehead, Paris Lit Up, Hawaii Review, and elsewhere.