Noah Kucij
In Paradise
The sleep of dogs, the obsolescence
of shoes, the husks of coconuts,
the heaps downwind, the teeth of snakes,
the wings of ants, the sunset beer,
the arms that raise the sails that bring
the prawns and cockles to the coals,
the roads endured, the toes massaged,
the nothing understood.
It's Beautiful
Eroded stoop, grey vinyl house,
the stubbed butts of a century.
Out front, a cat keeps nodding watch,
her newsprint markings washed in blue
and red when the police roll by.
In back, the snowy silver pall
of bald elms creeps up over un-
suspecting roofs. It’s beautiful
as night sweats, as insurance fraud,
pink mold, misspellings on a tomb.