Fall Off

I’m coming out 
of my old church. It’s 12:15.
Soon I’ll toss off my bow tie 
and go out and play. I feel guilty 
that I hate church--I hope 
God understands that play 
is more fun than worship.  
Doesn’t God get enough worship?  
Even my dad at the factory 
gets a couple of breaks each day.  

That heavy red hymnal, how I wish 
it were the Mamas and the Papas.  
I’d sing “Strange Young Girls” 
with Mama Cass who 
I’ve never met but adore. It’s easy 
to adore from afar. I don’t know 
any strange young girls. The ones 
I know seem pretty normal.  
Lori likes Barbie and has the dream 
house. I pretend I’m Ken 
when we play—a handsome surfer, 
not a boy who can’t multiply.  
Monday beats up Sunday. School.  

How do we know the Earth is round?  
I don’t know. I’m ten 
and feel that I could easily fall off of it.

Kenneth Pobo has a new book out from Duck Lake Books called Dindi Expecting Snow.  He won the 2019 chapbook contest from the Poetry Society of Alabama for Your Place Or Mine.  They will be publishing it next year. His work has been published in or forthcoming in: North Dakota Quarterly, Atlanta Review, Nimrod, Hawaii Review, Illuminations, and elsewhere.