by Margery Hannah
asked me to present a thirty dollar
poem. Like sun-sweet honey
make it, they say, coruscate
and luke-warm.
Don’t offend anyone.
So I begin cleaving.
My heart is now
a million marching, marching,
marching off-beat
beats. And without cause my eggs
crack and piss on audacity.
But the prostrated here—
Lady Gem
that rock, that stone
she did no wrong
as funerals tell.
Heartless I ride it
like Hawaiian waves going
home home home.
© Margery Hannah 2008-2022 All Rights Reserved
