Three Poems for John Ashbery

Poisson d'Avril

The fish is for the bear I'll surely meet.
Meanwhile, Gretelchen has been enchanted,
she has turned into a million different things.
Gretel is a tree, she's a bird, she's a bee.
'What sort of song is that?', you might ask.
'It's not part of the story.'
It's not a song, it's the undertow;
the undertow you can't outwit.
What else can I say?
These flowers, for instance, typical Gretel.
Lush deep pink, the perfect shade of lipstick
for an April morning. You guessed it,
I'm burdened with roses.
I take them now to my grandmamma.
Through this forest I go; who cares if my way is long.
The fish is Gretel too. The bear needs to eat her
...