Answer:
The man says poetry should be simple enough
for school girls to understand
House and insist I turn over
to them my dried flowers, my postcards on the wall,
Ever have i seen bullets flying between mothers and their children as they
walk to the market. I’ve grown afraid of the construction
Curved cloth of Sleeping Beauty
wheel gathered stray fibers in a whirl of spindles
Our symbol of fun. Still, no tanks appear in my front yard, is really the big
one,finally, coming to America.
Lightning will strike my new TV,
I’ll never learn to keep a clean house, and somewhere,a place I’ve never
been,a mother covers her child’s body like a blooming crimson
Dinner between the pot roast and mashed potatoes. Twenty more years,
and now I can’t believe I still have all my fingers. What’s stopping
my neighbor from slicing my head off? Planes fly over,
Wonder if fire will drop onto my rooftop,
if the boom of the shuttle re-entering our atmosphere
Afraid of tanks coming down Lockwood Ridge Road,
and men with machine guns knocking on my door.
Rain for my wild flowers, lightning will strike my new TV,
I’ll never learn to keep a clean house...
