THE LEMON POEM by Glen Armstrong

by Glen Armstrong

He said “lemon”
over and over.
Lemon. Lemon. Lemon.
Until the word was just a can
of creamed lemon.

The radio played
a marathon of lemon songs.
All over the city
a million plastic boxes
sang out

———-until each radio
was likewise
a can of creamed radio.

And what of those cans?
———-Losing their edges
———-and hollow cores
———-as they proliferate?
The edges?
———-The creams?

———-Becoming dreams and juice.

By eight o’clock
———-his yellow bathrobe
———-and gym socks

———-were no longer
———-his yellow bathrobe
———-and gym socks.

Glen ArmstrongGlen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He also edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters.


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