- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Rockwell
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The Rockwell
My parents have a Norman Rockwell
It’s a plate not a canvas
And I’m sure not an original
But it is a certified print
When I look out my winter window
I see children in the snow
Slip sliding on sleds in the street
Or road
And I look at their little wool caps and striped scarves
And their big puffy coats
And their boots
Throwing snowballs
And making angels
And playing king of the hill
And making snowmen
And all of this reminds me of the Rockwell painting.
And then I remember
It’s a print
On a plate
Of an old man
Smoking a pipe
With a parrot on his shoulder
He is building a ship in a bottle.
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