3 Poems From Secrets

PICASSO'S HEAD OF A WOMAN I am the right eye of Picasso's woman I look down always, never, never up I never see hats, just shoes I only know the properties of pavements I look over cracks, tree roots, small dogs and kerbs I see shadows, subways, cigarette stubs, gum I do not dare look up The artist has condemned me to be passive Submissive. My horizon is bounded by feet Wet matches in muddy alleys A strange perspective, one step up from Hades I am in love with puddles, with reflections Strange muse, to so contort a face THE HEART OF THE HOME The heart of my childhood home was music A piano, a mandolin, A zither, guitar, harmonica Jews harp and song I breathed this out and in Rhythm was deep within my family's bones Heart of the house, it thrummed along our veins. THE LITTLE BONSAI TREE (2) I am a human Bonsai tree My voice is pruned to poetry No mighty oak or pine am I In my small space beneath the sky Crooked and skewered, it's kind you see To foster anonymity