Two Poems

Andrew Weatherhead


The blind cat stakes me out

and pounces. He misses by

a good foot and regroups

under the bed. The sun sets

at four thirty. It hurts

to think. 14,329 messages

and 133 missed calls.

Johnnie Walker Blue.

Riding the escalator at Macy’s,

my bulbous-reflection-in-

the-mirrored-aluminum ass

pays twice what a white

shirt is worth. An ambrosial accent

from the handbag department.

I read some bad news about a friend.

I ask my nephew a question

and he shits his pants.

Nature Pauvre

Watching the neighbors watch

Shadows waver on the lawn
like an occupying force.

Bleeding out – it’s all so normal.

Brutal combinations of the real
over our sad, earthly abstractions.

The sky is not so beautiful today.
And beliefs come unbidden

like a train gliding into a mountain.
The effect has an effect

which has an effect —
almost neat.
Andrew Weatherhead is from Wilmette, IL and lives in Glens Falls, NY. He is the author of three poetry collections — $50,000, TODD, and Cats and Dogs.