“Golf” & “Tang” * Poetry * Robert Donohue

Golf

If seen from outer space
The most obvious feature
Of where I live
Would be the golf courses
And everyone residing here
Would appear to exist
In the narrow margins
Between them.

My grandmother would collect
The errant golf balls
All the pros
Hit over the fences
Into the streets.
She kept them in
A dresser drawer
And seeing this drawer
Full of golf balls
Would please me
As a child.

I remember
How this drawer smelled:
There was turf
And dirt
And the peculiar aroma
Golf balls have
When grouped together.

 

Tang

It is a substance astronauts consume
Of vivid orange hue and crystalline.
When dropped in water, water turns to wine,
A vintage for those dwelling on the moon.
I know its taste, licked raw, straight from a spoon
Like children do. If we are given time
We will mature, our palates will refine
And in our cupboards Tang will find no room.

We leave the world to gain it once again,
Along the way our gear gets jettisoned.
We fall from a terrific height, descend
Through sky and cloud to surface, only then
Do we accept the earth for what it is:
Our home, with orchards full of oranges.

 

—About the Author—

Robert Donohue’s poetry has appeared in The Font, Oddball Magazine, and Pulsebeat, among others. He lives on Long Island, NY.