Alice O. Howell   

 

Tycoon

 

                Call him a tycoon, he likes that

 

in fact, he is a jovial swindler

 

            and his signature on contracts

 

looks like a grapevine

 

 

            he has a big belly and dainty toes

 

everything is on the up and up

 

      and laughter sweeps away the rest

 

 

at noon, the sun shines on the hard polish

 

            of the desk and on a harder heart

 

 

the office is at Olympian heights

 

      and the hovels are far, far away

 

the buttons on the inter-com are red and gray

 

 

sometimes he fingers them, whispering

 

            hire!  fire!  hire!  fire!

 

somewhere his mother weeps for him in Hades

 

            knowing Charon is bringing him black death

 

                                    before long.

 

                                                a.o.howell

 

                               

 

 

 

 

 

        

HOME

to MIST