NEED by Kenneth Pobo

One man can need plenty,
in fact, plenty isn’t nearly enough.

A dollar leads to a dollar and soon
you’re climbing a dollar ladder
well beyond trees.  You crave the sky
and would buy it
if you could, but you only have
a few million.  You build

a mansion and put in a room
with a skylight.  It isn’t
enough.  It’s never enough.

You ask Jesus to give you the sky now,
not when you’re in Heaven—what
fun is that?  He’s not listening.
He’s bandaging the wounds
of a guy you trampled on your
way to the ladder.  You think

about great parties you could host,
people lounging on clouds, angels
serving shaken-not-stirred martinis.
your wife looking like a boutique
with good hair.  Sometimes

the sky gets a particular light
blue shade, matching your favorite
wine glasses, imported from Martinique.
But you know the sky

is the dream
you can’t make real—you walk under it,
look up, your whole life
like a picture window that broke
on the coldest night of the year.


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