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the poetry of Charles Fry

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1994–1993

3 May 1994

How Realistic

How Realistic
were the two little dolls
in their hand knit sweaters
and wooden beds

How Realistic
were the games they played
and the roads they ran
and the dreams they grew

How Realistic
were the manikins they married
and the children they bore
and the strenuous tasks that kept them alive

How Realistic
were the melting clocks
and the grandchildren they brought
and the malls they grew

"How Realistic"
said one old lady to the other
while pressing buttons on
electronic firetrucks
in a decaying toystore

 The Stunning Beauty Of Her Majesty   snoitcelfer   Dis Cove Ry   In God We Trusted   the Rock   civility   memories   so valuable   card board   How Realistic   grandpa   Mr. Darwin Once Proposed The Existence Of A Dynamic Race   words   Today   The Hangman's Tree   the tracks   young boys   (conformity)   forests   Death   the Mask   a Child i was born   Seclusion   Freedom   snoW   What if there was a war and nobody came?