by Bernadette Mayer
a poem is like a palm
in that it is sap evaporating
like a horse in a corral
running frenetically to the road when
a car approaches like a bird
who comes to the feeder despite
the hot sweet smoke, should we end today?
if you end one thing, you might end
another like the winter or the life
of a traitor humming like a cloud
in the clear blue sky’s use
as a plateau to warmer, itchy weather
when we can swim in the creek
beyond the field behind the hay’s evaporator, amen.
@ jprofessor It is an option under “community” when you click customize on your dashboard.