I.<\/p>\n
right now the economy is in the sun room
\nwatching mother robins build their nests
\n& balance twigs between their beaks.
\nthe doctor just left us silent in the kitchen
\ncoffee mugs cold from neglect
\n& our hands slide across the table
\nleaving sweat-garlands beside our cell-phones.<\/p>\n
no one wants to kneel beside the wicker chair,
\ndeliver the news, no one wants to close the ivory
\nblinds across the dusty window.
\nno one wants to tell the economy it’s going to die.<\/p>\n
II.<\/p>\n
just after dawn & no sleep I shower,
\n& drying myself notice blood splashes
\ntrying to crawl towards the drain
\nof the faux-porcelain sink.
\na newspaper’s ashes huddle by the toilet,
\nheadlines fighting for attention
\ntheir voices curled around some unformed center.<\/p>\n
III.<\/p>\n
the stock market stops by to see the economy
\nbut spends his visit in the TV room
\nadmiring the wall-mounted flat screen.
\nhe whistles undulating melodies, his long white fingers
\nclick through our local magazines
\n& replies when we speak with facts about himself.<\/p>\n
after he leaves my wife brings the economy chicken soup
\nwith the noodles cut–she says they can be swallowed faster
\nthat way–& allows the fan in the bedroom to keep whirling
\nunder the weight of shed hair & skin from long ago.
\na few hours later I find the economy slumped
\nover the side of the bed,
\nspewing broth onto the carpet
\n& staring up at me
\nlike a child confused by the concept of God.<\/p>\n
IV.<\/p>\n
the doctor shows us x-rays depicting growth, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n About the Poet<\/em>:<\/p>\n Michael Patrick McSweeney is an artist and educator from the Boston region. His work has appeared in numerous journals and various regions of the Internet thanks to truly wonderful individuals. He is also the founder and chief financial officer of a used submarine conglomerate, the business website of which can be found at\u00a0http:\/\/discountsubmarines.wordpress.com<\/a> , and he hopes you have a great day.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I. right now the economy is in the sun room watching mother robins build their nests & balance twigs between their beaks. the doctor just left us silent in the kitchen coffee mugs cold from neglect & our hands slide across the table leaving sweat-garlands beside our cell-phones. no one wants to kneel beside the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,219,199],"tags":[159,160],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/997"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=997"}],"version-history":[{"count":21,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/997\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3284,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/997\/revisions\/3284"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=997"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=997"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=997"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ncharts of numbers running up stairs. he says it’s a sign.
\nI ask if there is anything inspirational I could say
\n& his eyes flicker away like a spent match.
\nhis mouth mumbles something
\nabout how life is like that Walt Whitman poem…
\nback home we find the economy in the kitchen,
\nkneading coffee grounds with shaking palms.
\nI just needed a little juice<\/em>, we hear.
\nmy wife takes my hand & begins to cry.<\/p>\n