Terence Winch

We Will Get Rich at The Funeral

We will be the liberators. We will not execute
anyone, regardless of race, creed, sexual orientation,

Or current credit score from all three major credit
rating agencies. We will fill libraries with mystic rocks

And mini-bars. We will insist that all the fathers
make amends to their daughters. No one will commit

Suicide. All Mormons will be unbaptized and turned
into Jews or atheists. Judges will set everyone free

But no one will want to be let go. Suffering is loneliness.
Sorrow grows on bones like moss on a rock.

You can look it up. Look up at the people
in the windows looking down on us. Make them take

A baby aspirin every day. Tell them you mean them no harm.
Make them fall backwards into your waiting arms.

Change of Climate

Peacocks meander through the fertile plain.
They are a royal pain. Do not try to sit one in your lap.
It would take a solitary metaphor as red as
a heart to make those birds depart.

Beggars beg beneath troubled skies,
the radio playing oracular sighs of doom.
If you let them in your room, all is lost.
It’s a high cost to pay for absolutely nothing.

Let the cantos and centos gather up mementos
so no one may forget the ghost of the sea
coast, now on fire like a burning bush
of desire. The cash turned all to trash.

Terence Winch is the author of eight poetry collections. The Known Universe (2018) is his latest. A Columbia Book Award and American Book Award winner, Winch is included in more than 40 anthologies, among them the Oxford Book of American Poetry, Poetry 180, and 5 editions of Best American Poetry. He is the recipient of an NEA Fellowship and a Gertrude Stein Award for Innovative Writing, among other honors. He has also published a book of short stories called Contenders (1989) and a YA novel called Seeing-Eye Boy (2020). A collection of non-fiction stories entitled That Special Place: New World Irish Stories (2007) focuses on his life as a traditional Irish musician.