santaflamingos.jpgNo day to be named after a uvula

(with a nod to Alex Vouri)


I dream I am a famous tenor

stripped of my tucked-in shirt.


I rehearse in the shower,

later bellow high notes


into an ice-cave, echoes there

adding strength to my refrain.


The opera fails in Australia.

My songs leak counter-clockwise 


down a plastic drain, lose power

at the bend, leave me out of breath


before the aria ends. Nameless.

Another guilty white guy


who will only be remembered

if I put all my shit in a museum.

                            Timothy Pilgrim

   (accepted by Poetry Pacific -- copyrighted Timothy Pilgrim photo: line of plastic flamingos in snow, Longmont, Colo.)