Monday, November 9, 2015

Robert League- Three Poems

Terrible Gas Mask Man

Hopped from my bed
to the other side
of the room,
the terrible gas mask man
hidden at my feet,
but he was not there,
no fumes, no vapors,
no grating sound, just
an empty wooden land
with a few curls of dust.


It was real 
that distant space
we landed on, we
knew it, and should
have stayed up,
but look at us here
now, me remembering,
you forgetting,
and both of us 
somehow regretting.


Small popping sound
and we are gone, gone,
going to a new place,
one where you can
speak, I can finally
listen, and stop pretending,
except I know when
we get there, through
those blue portals
and green mazes,
through the ice lands
and over hot lava,
I will still be pretending,

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