Poetry with Don Intonato

September 2020


Now that you are gone,
I put the moon to bed
and got the sun up on time.
In the late afternoon,
I made it rain for a while
to water the trees.

Mostly sunny, 72 degrees,
except for a day or two
when a little frost was in order.
As for the tide,
I just kept it high,
no more getting stuck
on sand bars.

The hurricanes have agreed
to the stay in the middle of the Atlantic.
The twisters were confined
to a small town in Tennessee.
As for thunder and lightning,
there was not much I could do.

On Thursday, I made a small change
to the gravitational pull.
Now everyone has
an extra bounce in their step
and the cat bumps
Its head on the ceiling
when it jumps.

And all the things you worried about,
the polar icecaps, the rain forests,
the barrier reefs, the ozone layer—
I fixed all that before the day was done.
A little late, a little short,
but all for you.

Sitting now in the laundromat,
I am writing this poem
And waiting for the dryer to begin.
Before I left the house,
I fed the cats,
the birds and the raccoons,
brought out the recycling,
put out the lights in all the rooms.

Then I turned the earth so slightly,
you could barely feel it spin.


in small rooms,

a bed
a chair,
nothing else there.

through the window,

we grow,
arms and legs
like vines entwined.

we are
slow to sleep.
In the waking hour,
love resumes.

~ For Meri