Poem: Veranda

The veranda is a poem with a silly made-up form, almost a parody. The structure of the veranda is simply this: each stanza needs to mention a piece of summer lawn furniture. Clearly, the number of stanzas is limited by one's knowledge of summer lawn furniture. I jotted this veranda down while on a plane for a trip to Seattle this weekend.
-

Veranda

Out in the veranda when the earthquake souped
the ground, tortilla chips diving into salsa, tomatoes
afray, lawn gnomes like angels thrown into the air, their
stone beards wisp into cotton candy, their gnomey

hands flailing; one gnome impaled in the belly by a flying
patio umbrella, rainbow-like, and a chuckle escapes
my dentures as I imagine missile to helicopter. A
cat's flickering paws, tail of flax, Cheshire smile

no one sees but me. Let me home, I cry, expecting
rubies or shoes and getting popcorn lawn chairs,
chartreuse, taupe, mauve, a seizure of colors
as I fly trampoline-flung into the ground. Cartoon

image: a halo of birds and stars. Lightning crackles
the ground once more, sprinklers whirring, a troubled
leg that won't stop shaking; probably nothing, but what
if it's Huntington's, a rift leaving me adrift, voices aclang.