Anthony Robinson
Becoming Human
We have become fantastic, corporeal,
bodies unto ourselves,
not complements or negative space,
but things purely things. Under the sky
that greys the city, the backdrop
for the circus, we wandered
on two legs, each, two legs crawling
with only so much beauty. You
really should have seen it. Muscles
and nerves, electrons and capillaries
swarming: a beehive and an interstate.
Comical trees with faces swiped
from garage-saled animations leered,
wide grins, and we gathered
together to watch the unfeathering
of a huge white chicken. Good dog,
good dog, someone muttered. The sky fell
against our faces, the trees purred,
the circus, the city, twinkled on,
our delicious new bodies ran
and ate and drank and bent backwards
to receive the falling rain.
Anthony Robinson likes professional wrestling
quite a bit. He also prefers cats, even ill-tempered ones to dogs,
especially dachsunds. He's had poetry and essays published recently in Able
Muse and Alsop Review. He teaches freshman composition and can cook pretty good.
See his other work published in Gumball Poetry's Summer 2000 issue: Confessions and On a Photograph, 1973.
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