My 4th Annual Birthday Political Fundraiser
i sleep a sleep gone fifty. “help wanted,”
the corner-bound cardboard coaxes mosquitoes,
eats the lilies alive, rotisserie-style, charred, up
for barter with some other vulture. auction off
my sociability, arranging plates, utensils. steak knives.
i’m eager to serve a grand masquerade, proof of life.
i’m an earnest jew, i think, generosity and such.
a few interns, the hill, knights of the round table,
my pride. dead hydrangeas–-a classless landscape, but
no pity, no “woe is me,” me. some freak accident
turned me mute, yes. sorry for no letters. sorry
for the late checks, the long hours. for the cause!
the keyed fold-out table is wrinkled with age and
the fruit collapses on it in a gust. i gainsay
this succumbing, the seeds on the ground,
but my square glasses turn round in the sheen.
Buzz Kozak is a senior at Purchase College studying playwriting. When not writing for the stage, he writes poetry, which has previously appeared in Dadakuku.