Poems
by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Can I be Rare, Too?
If you are rare, can I be rare, too?
In less time than needed to braid keychains,
I could incal scere like Australian thorn birds,
Thrust off sufficient self-perceived embarrassments,
As to change, rather than to end, our relationship.
Skipping along the periphery of glabrous greens grown with ill cause,
I otherwise rubrice sharp passages as filled with ease and light. Forfend
That midifes mandate might keep our vital courses open to locked places.
Only when hatchling promises or passing seasons, those met during earlier spans,
Would I take verbal microscopes to tarantulas fangs.
Conjuring up make-believe monsters does nothing for dancing the mortise and tendon.
Dunderdoodles, blue-tongued skinks, plus vegetarian meatballs, all sometimes burn.
Better to fail at placing staid beckets overboard or to sink incorrigible rhinos with wine,
Than to entangle in amusement park lagoons ordinarily meant for reducing
Salad to sessile, single forms to dress rehearsals, generations to plastered attributes.
Lately, some of my literary pas de deux, those irregularly curbed,
Invoke predator memories. More successful communications,
Plus swollen breasts, swiffers replacement parts, satin-lined toppers,
Unidirectional enchantments, second person points of view, jubilee fools,
Warn sufficiently that telling a woman you love her is never enough.
Teenage Infatuation
Id write you a song, Id send you a poem.
Your letters of love, Id cherished at home.
Id carry your picture, your smile, in my heart.
Fill hankies, tear tissues, each time we might part.
My mind would gyrate to bliss from your words,
Id savor your kisses, even when theyre inferred.
Such glittery feelings, your presence would bring,
Such blushing to cheeks, to limbs, to odd things.
I believe that youre magic, that youd perhaps lift
My outlook, my sorrow, my yesterdays rift.
He refused me the sky, denied me the clouds.
Darkened my dreams, shamed me often, aloud.
As his twin, youd know how to play angel flutes,
Our coupling would zing; youre really as cute.
Of Bandoliers and Boulangeries
Through select apertures, added marvels flow.
Not unlike American Revolution pamphlets,
Supplementary crusades bring no bombshells;
They merely galvanize election-biased minds.
Elsewise, uninspired folks numinous passages
Meander, use untraceable accounts, urge peer
Suspicions to materialize in software created
For punters seeking spontaneous contractions.
The minute desultorily sad paramours blubber,
Illicit emoluments enable them to keep minions.
Their exoneration from sordid acts establishes
Contrived trusts plus easily proven prejudices.
See, generosity, wisdom, honor, aint mundanes
Greatest powers. Simple sprogs oughtnt excuse:
Foozled larcenies of dotards, taking toffees off
Babies, screaming through neighborhood lungs.
By avoiding familial visits to prison wards, folks,
Mayhap, skip dreary encounters, random bathos,
Dubashes bridleways, also spoiled sourdough-
Sucking down rehabilitation en plein air works.
Further, kids doomed to lives filled with doodly
Software, idleness, health scares, clan woes, all
Clichés journeying to contentious arenas, find
No possibilities of parole or of plain pasturage.
Au courant rulings retalitorily pirate files filch
Optimism from pessimists, comparably contort
Sundry innocent citizens into implacable mobs,
Repurpose institutions as sophisticated rangolis.
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.