And Lately
And lately,
I seem
seeded
in the same
old place,
Poetry Month 2024
On Choosing a Tomb
He says he wants to see Solomon’s
tomb, the Ark of the Covenant, and
treasures that turn dragons a shade
of muted emerald. Furtively search
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Identity
The way he says identity politics—as if claiming any identity
is something moderately pornographic, a Congressional
tabloid where everything is dirtier than he is. Never mind
his own proud proclamation: White male. Lover of guns
Or Perhaps
Or perhaps you would prefer to hear
my hands shake, that I can no longer
feel my fingertips, that I shut them in
National Poetry Month 2024 – Micropoems
Despondence is
avocado toast.
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Strike Out (Sonnet Number Something)
They may not sweeten after being picked, but they do seem
to get softer, these aging players that were the talk of the baseball
town. For some reason, they suddenly can’t get past the strike zone:
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1969
Ageism launched the year we were born—literally. That was the year they
dispatched us and a supercharged word into a no-so-straight-arrowed
world.
Somerville, circa 1988
Somerville.
Renting a room
in a peeling Victorian,
too many women
sharing one bathroom.
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No Judgment Zone
What shall we celebrate today?
Should it be sugar-free candies
and exercise? That splendid sit-
down cross-trainer that politely asks
listless arms and legs and hands
and feet to do the work for once,