I bought a lawn-mower today…check out those blades!
Here is a poem to go with a lawn mower, written by my son Joe (age 15)
Green Bermuda, Rangy, unkempt
thicker than Belize.
Rumbling machine, Hot, half spun blades,
coughing black pollution.
A cloudless, torrid summer sky
will see ferocious battle.
Valentine prepares pink lemonade,hair pulled up,
cheeks pomegranate red from heat.
Children playing, splashing and racing
in the above ground pool.
I release the sunflower seeds, masterfully cracked,
by the thirties from my mouth.
More antagonized with every failed
attempt to start the mower.
Chuckling Valentine appears with drinks:
is there any gas?
I look at her with arrogant eyebrows
and open up the tank-
Empty echoes the merciless jab at my