[ToC]

 

3 POEMS

Maura Way

 

 

FEW ARE CHOSEN

The pilgrims are invited to be part of the episode.
Fat monks will watch over your teeny structure.
Cutting your hair, taking off your clothes: these
will mark your crossing from one phase to another.
Or you could just change your name. I miss being
Catholic, like after you turn 30, you just can't
be a prodigy anymore. I liked waiting to be
one of those miracle girls. Oh, my heroes were
so full of martyrdom. Bernadette, Clara Barton,
Mary McLeod Bethune, Boxer,  Mother Seton.
Work horses all. Vital people vitalize, the sages say.
I am degenerate and questless. Hot only to trot.

 

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LEADLIGHT

snow days are no days       here
with only Zelda. That's what I named
a squiggly quavering of light that
sometimes appeared in my childhood
bedroom through the 1911 windowpane. 
I hadn't seen her in fifteen years, but
she followed me to the other bungalow
just when I needed her because everyone
is outside playing with their kids and dogs
in the snow. I like to make things fun for
people. So does Zelda, waving to me in
the midday light I so rarely get to enjoy. 
I put on my most exciting underwear
and wonder what’s to become of me.

 

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THE CALLING

Thalia wants to be funny, but she's an atheist 
now. She adopted a highway and everything.
That's when I turned to alcohol: I wanted
something to tell me what to do. Montessori
was too much pressure for me. My three
hour blocks of uninterrupted time turned
into a decreasingly viscous type of dew.
None of this was supposed to happen so
I became beautiful and hilarious without
deciding to. Burped a highway, fell over.
 

 

 

 

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I'm enjoying reading Something Must Be Done About Prince William County by Kristen Green and all the Mary Ruefle that I can get my hands on. Recently feel in love with Catherine Breese Davis ( through The Unsung Masters Series/Pleiades Press). I always go back to Dorothy Parker, Kenneth Koch, and Joshua Beckman. Ever since the fifth grade at Ben W. Murch Elementary School, I read Pardon Me, You're Stepping on My Eyeball by Paul Zindel once a year. I developed a hopscotch version of sentence diagramming for my seventh grade students, but I'm not sure it teaches them anything. I write poems in the morning before homeroom.