Introducing this poet
who is me
In case you don’t know that I am, somehow, a poet. Of all the pieces I have shared, this is everyone’s favorite. I swear it was written in 2016.
Many thanks to Tina Rowley for including it in theWeekly Zephyr.
Have a great weekend. XO
Instructions for the Coming Season
Dance around in a circle.
Make the floor shake.
Speak to the dead.
Make a sweet curtsy.
Throw your head back and roar like a silent, feral cat.
Be the cat.
Pee on the floor. Go take a swipe at the dog’s nose. Eat the recycling. Belch so loudly you scare the postman. Roll in the uncut grass.
Pull the stones out of the wall and gawk at the rats.
Climb to the top of the fence and spit at passing Teslas.
Put on your finest dress.
Pin on war medals.
Take selfies and post them around the neighborhood,
With little cut-out pieces featuring old Soviet propaganda,
Sayings for passersby to take with them.
Remind everyone of our brave countrymen at the front.
Draw a map of Chinese Imperial history with pieces that move.
Use this as a centerpiece at your next dinner party.
Invite a pair of every species of villain in your circle of
acquaintance:
The Precious Fop The False Prophet The Shiny Sports Car The Dark-molasses Craft Cocktail The Tripping Saint The Hammocked Man
Then see what happens.
Any babies born from these meetings must be named after you,
But you are not expecting,
nor would you accept, the position of godmother.
Charge a fee for your services.
Your specialty; dawning on people.
Make them sign a waiver excluding you from liability,
But including you in ten percent of the profits.
Make a daisy chain.
Float hydrangeas and lilacs in the duck pond.
Paint corporate logos on the turtles there.
Offer a reward for their safe return.
Walk around the church three times in a blue satin cape,
Muttering curses in Pig Latin.
Sit on a brocade divan in the rain,
Making conversation with the heron.
Laugh at all his jokes.
(He is very sensitive.)
Titter. Cover your mouth. Blush.
Invite children to watch you ruin fabrics with a too-hot iron.
Regale them with stories of wolves who chased you while skiing,
And magic marmots who stole your jewelry.
Ask them to get it back for you.
Promise them candy from the dark web.
Plant skunk cabbage and iceberg roses.
Press ferns in your cell phone case.
Look for a blimp to buy.
Tether it to the community center.
Dive for waterlilies. Float in the darkness, Listening to the carbon’s soft shift. Blow kisses to twinkling, distant suns.
Dissolve.
Love, love, love