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 Playing With Fire by Skye Perfect by Simi SIXTEEN IN SEPTEMBER by Bridgette Chabot New Year's Feast by Joanna Gin Life by Ellie McCutcheon The Muses Number Nine by Dustin V. Brookshire submit a poem for next month's edition go to current edition  |
New Year's Feast by Joanna Gin Each year is the same - Walls decorate themselves With glittering characters of gold leaf Dusty brooms, all cobwebbed are removed from their abode As noisy women Some like saplings pulled by gigantic frames Others like rotund cherubs resembling swollen pork buns. Cook and clean, scramming to beat a clock that doesn't want them to win. How the superstition stirs Carries the flavors of jasmine tea tangerines, and sugar-coated candies Women can be lethal with a cloth Frustrated over a stubborn spot That might stain their reputation When relatives and friends visit. When relatives and friends visit, Women can be charming, eager to please The saplings bend over The cherubs spread their wings Ready to assist howling babies Grandmas who sit next to whining kids, ask them how do they do, and would they please speak louder, as moms with bags under their eyes, look, ask for aspirin. The men are cheery, how they boast, voices floating over television turned to a volume Grandma can hear. I look at the wall, to catch a glimpse of the time Will it be much longer until the great feast? The clock, a bronze metal sun Seems to laugh at me A clock, that doesn't want me to win. |
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