All Fall Down
- Samaras twist and twirl their way to the ground.
- The shower of green just will not stop. It’s like
- A toddler spinning, spinning. All fall down.
- Spring’s run hot, then cold, this time around.
- Tornadoes one day, snow the next. All the while,
- Samaras twist and twirl their way to the ground.
- I think I saw someone who scares me, downtown
- Today. I thought he was locked away, locked tight.
- My thoughts are spinning, spinning, all fall down.
- Samaras twist and twirl their way to the ground
- As if this were a normal spring day. Not quite.
- I’d pray, but I lack faith in this faith I’ve found.
- When my little boy spins, I worry he’ll fall down
- On something sharp. He doesn’t see what I
- See — corners, corners everywhere. And now
- Another threat. So much for peace of mind.
- Dear God, protect my family. Please. At least try.
- Samaras twist and twirl their way to the ground
- Just like a toddler spinning. All fall down.
Hot Psalms
- Right-now, just-right,
- Hot psalms for all
- That ails you and yours.
- Podiatry, angina,
- Low or zero a.p.r.,
- Corporate malfeasance.
- We got it all. From
- Earnest pleas to
- Whiny-ass complaints.
- All modulate between
- The urge to scream
- And that of being mute.
- You must be fully human.
- You must say one every day.
- Please note: response time varies.
Like the Last English Guy in India
- He doesn’t admit it, doesn’t call it sweat,
- But there he sits, damp as a napkin wrapped
- Around a gimlet (or whatever it was they had
- To have cold, thus have their coolies bring the wet
- Containers, dripping as they ran. Their ice —
- Commodity more precious there than salt.)
- Mildly tragic for him (for others, much worse)
- for this to end. He’s sure it’s not his fault.
- Hear how he rails, his accent sharp as a knife —
- A scimitar? A lance? A jailhouse shiv?
- And lest we mock his clinging to a life
- We think he didn’t earn, we must admit
- We every one of us take turns at this —
- We want today to not be what it is.
Marnie Bullock Dresser lives in Spring Green, Wisconsin, with a fair amount of clutter, one son, two cats, and one husband. Marnie is almost 50 years old. Marnie is a self-declared “dorky white woman” who blogs at marniere.wordpress.com.