The Caretaker (poem)

The Caretaker

Leatherette pairs well with duct tape

Your luckiest seat will be the one

…well, first, you find

You cannot always find a place to sag, when

like the figure on the floor-mopper’s sign

You slip, and your head pops off

A repairable chair, cornered bolts not lost, if loosened

…as we guess, by the panting of radio voices

by the sonic parting of bodily cells

by the sub-mutter, the verbal fart, that unscrews lightbulbs

makes of lampstands comic props

That shoves and heaves in tiny ways

Oscillating to the operator’s grave

That unfits simple locks

Excavate a dozen wheeled chairs

Executive transport once from phone to window

From “huh, uh huh”, to sigh, why am I not free?

NOW YOU ALL ARE FREE

You have time to build a bus

Your infirm can make along with you like this

Escorted, seated six by six

The Caretaker

Fallen Debris

(2024, Stephanie Foster)