Poems by Louis Phillips

STAND ASIDE APRIL

Stand aside April,
Spring’s spontaneous tricks
Of greenleaf canoodlings
Stir beneath farmhouse ricks

Rattling over country lanes.
Dense planets of mites
With jittery legs spin out
Top 40 tunes, nothing mute

Nor quiet, merely whirr
Girr tick  buzz  whirr buzz,
Mating muscles stretched
To breaking points.  Was

That you, Mister, in the bushes
With the Alderman’s wife?
For shame! For shame!
Such carrying-ons! A whiff

Of sunlight awakenings
With erotic cunning
& even housebound snails
Are off & running.

 

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WHAT WAS LEFT OF THE WIND

Thousands of women dancing on the beach.
Every one was joyous.
& then the wind undressed.

I craned my neck to look.
What was left of the wind
After it undressed?

 

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MUSÉE DES BEAUX ARTS

 

        Urinal,
        You are in all

        Major museums,
        Entire rooms

        Of white porcelain 
        In a straight line

        Awaiting an admirer.
        You are the mirror

        To our age,
        Setting the stage

        For self reflection.
        You are perfection,

        Artful & useful.
        On the wall

        A card reminds us
        To flush.
        
        No scuba diving.