Two Poems by Ace Boggess

by Ace Boggess

Red

I drove a red car

onto a street lit red

by the reddish sun

descending below

reddened hills, &

did I feel the burning

of red heart, red blood,

ready to taste

the pinkish skin

of one who lived

in a red-brick house

with red rug

before the ruddy doors,

red-reflecting windows,

though the curtains

weren’t red, but blue

like a lake

in a drawing of a lake

by a child who

hasn’t learned

the flush of a face

inflamed by passion:

red red red red red.

The President Blames Everyone but Himself

I didn’t eat the icebox plums.

Must have been someone else.

The governor of Michigan

did a lousy job protecting

the package of cool & sweet.

The governor of New York

wanted more than he needs.

I didn’t eat the icebox plums.

Do I look like a burglar of delicate flesh?

The World Health Organization

got there first; I’ve stopped

payment on the check

until leaders explain

what happened to the fruit.

I didn’t eat them. Tempting,

but no. Maybe one of these

reporters with their vulgar mouths &

lies. I suspect someone from CNN,

jealous of my wealth of plums,

left them under the sun, fermenting

into a delicious, syrupy wine.