Amoeba Love by Oisín Byrne

Just A Closer Walk With
by Kenneth Pobo

Li Po in the garden when it starts
pouring so I say quick, let’s hurry,
I just felt (ouch) some hail, as I run

back to the back door while he,
offering his martini glass
as a prayer to any stray wind gods
who happen to blow through, strolls

on grassy ground and eyeballs
a Missouri primrose’s perfect cup.
He strips, dives off the petal’s
edge into pink water, screams

his happy head off while I, indoors,
dour and dry, turn on
the Weather Station and pace.