Ode To A Grecian Earthquake
Robinson’s ex-wife had a mole
on the inside of her thighs
in a place meant only for a husband’s eyes,
the phonograph played Chopin.
In the kitchen the music vibrated
from a frying pan,
food itself played like a record.
Troubles of a spoon
unknown to humankind.
He mellowed in her face
all these years later
like a ladder to the autumn leaves.
Robinson turned the corner
and the buildings fell in Athens
thousands of miles from his lapel.