Kenneth Pobo: Two Poems
Perry Time | Trina on the Acropolis

Perry Time

A week before Christmas, Eureka!
Look, Trina points to page 62
of TV Guide, Perry Como's Christmas
Special—isn't Perry cute? Frank's
downstairs gluing lids on toy balsa
coffins for Chester's soldiers. For Trina

the week drags. She sets the alarm
for Perry Time, butters popcorn,
places Frank's beer on a coaster on
Popular Mechanics. Trina insists
the children watch. Vicki sulks
in her makeup mirror, waits it out
like a filling. Chester pounds
the piano. STOP THAT, Trina yells,

as Perry welcomes millions.
The Blessed Virgin cameos
during "Ave Maria," shimmers
before the commercial
break. Perry sings among children
and fades. Vicki's out the door.
Chester tramps up to his room,
plans Franistan's invasion—G.I. Joe

leaps from sailboat sheets, Frank
pours a third Blatz, and Trina
calls Marge to exchange recipes.

Trina on the Acropolis

I know I'll never go
anywhere. I picture myself
in ancient Greece,
cleaning house
while my husband
laps up young philosophers.
Civilization

a hepatica that opens
only to open wider,
at least that's how
I'm told it is. It seems
more like a dam
about to give way.
Am I

an ancient woman?
Commercials say at 40
I'm old. I'm 45.

Beautiful statues come
to life under my eyelids.
Nobody ever asks them
to dance.

Poet's Biography:

Kenneth Pobo grew up in Illinois. His work appears in Colorado Review, Nimrod, ForPoetry, Mudfish, Cumberland Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. In 1998, Palanquin Press published his chapbook called Cicadas in the Apple Tree. He likes to collect obscure 60s records, garden, and read.