Golden Monkey

Golden Monkey

A Poem by Tim McGovern

 

Bo Hung tells of the golden monkey
with many arms to trap you
confuse you
dazzle you with shine and walk you
off the path
into the oval of want
where you pass the same signs and think
“Haven’t I been here before?"
 
He laughs over black peg teeth
and he wheezes
like a long rusted pressure valve beings slowly opened
 
Many men chase the golden monkey
he says
eyes black and shiny
like scarabs on opium
and you know what happens?
he leans in conspiratorially grinning...
"PAH!"
his hand strikes the table
"Face down"
his laughter becomes a giggle
ageless
and you realize how many times he's told this story
something begins to jar loose in your head
 
The waitress brings tea and honey
it tastes of those mountains
flowers never seen
blossoms that open only for one day and are picked by hand
by an order of monks who meditate 17 hours a day
just to be able to pick those blossoms
that one day
in perfection
 
"So...."
he asks
barely able to contain his mirth
“you still go?"
 
You have a feeling if you say yes
he will spontaneously combust in laughter
 

© 2008 Tim McGovern


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Added on February 21, 2008

Author

Tim McGovern
Tim McGovern

Red Sox Nation, MA



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