Poems by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Seltzer and Other Social Signifiers
Urbane bubbles, all translucent giddiness packed for kiddies.
Adults prefer, were told, sparkling wine, fermented twice,
Nicely wrapped in ribboned bottles, pricey, that wet kings sip, so
Unlike the Borscht Belt gas, comically-rated for Hebraic families.
Flames and Fires
Flames and fires, continents worth of destructive
Rhetoric, resulting in pillaging, rape, genocide.
So many leaders skin combed off while Shema
Evoked heavenly escort, angels tears, Shamayim.
Our nation state, today, too, keeps on as a place of silly death;
Coffeehouse bombings, highway murders, also knifings,
Tractors running riot on urban streets, great numbers of crazies
Shooting up yeshivot, raiding our yeshuvim, carjacking to kill.
All the while, Torah carries on as our inferno, as the white/black blaze
That demands oxygen, fuel, goodness, impoverishes enemies energy,
Prevents further noxious combustions, controls dire situations, squelches
Ruinous reactions, meets violence with violence, necessarily saves lives.
Lag BaOmer is a heroes time, at least as much as any Yom HaShoah,
Yom Zicharon, or Yom Yerushalym. Maybe, this days more important;
It recalls our unearthly marriage to Him, Who writes with conflagrations,
Brimstone, earthquakes, plagues, storms, other esoteric words of passion.
My Mister (Didactic)
When you rise,
Greet horizons with your eyes.
Should it rain,
Green weather washes pain.
We watch the same sun, or feel watery kisses
Over leagues we remorse, similarly we miss.
When you wash,
Laugh your bubbles toward my place
When you comb,
Smile the curls around your face.
We both sheath, obscure with cloth,
Press against knit, cover loss.
Seasons cycle, spin.
Spring calls charm your way
Fancies firm manly whims.
Remember me this day
When you dine,
Drink your fill, ale binds,
When you play,
Be fair, be good, pray.
Stay stout of heart
Ask health, ask joy, pray smart.
A spans infusion,
A weeks careful keep,
A times resolution,
Toward kingdoms meeting.
I love you!
Bind, do tie my tongue
til nothing matters
Still, peonies grow, showing
Up this distant springtime.
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