Monday, 7 May 2012

A poem from the POETRY mobile app

By Kevin McFadden

Can't tell your oh from your ah? Go, go or else   
go ga-ga. What, were you born in a barn? Oh.
Ah. What do you say when the dentist asks?
No novacaine? Nah. Then joke's on us, Jack:

we gnaw ourselves when we really ought to know.   
Can't tell the force from the farce, nor our   
cores from our cars. The horde works hard in this   
new nation of shopkeeps, moles in malls, minding   

our stores when we should be minding our stars.
Harmony, whoremoney—can we even tell   
the showman from the shaman? Or are we
the worst kind of   tourists, doing La France   

in low fronts, sporting shorts at Chartres   
and so alone in our élan? Nope. We're Napoleons   
of nowhere, hopeless going on hapless,
unable to tell our Elbas from our elbows.

Read more about this poem and poet on the Poetry Foundation website:

Sent from The Poetry Foundation POETRY mobile app. Download your copy from AppStore now!

Sent from my iPhone