To the Song of the Cosmos

Your melody’s transporting me away
to sunrise in a candy-coated land
where no one suffers at another’s hand.
You offer me serenity to stay.
I’m tethered to the protoplasmic clay
you fashioned from the void. I’ve always planned
to hitch a ride back home. You understand
my murmurings in spite of what I pray.

But I’ll decline the invitation while
my fellow travelers are left to grieve,
for who would sing your words if I should leave?
I’ve given them the only things I had
to share, a simple sonnet and a smile.
I’ll catch you on the flipflop. Don’t be sad.

 

 

 

cc-by-nc-nd  2018 Mary Boren

 

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Equipping the Quiver

If I were Mother Verbivore, each day
before my children left the cave, I’d check
their fingernails for cleanliness and pay
a token glance behind their ears and neck.

And then I’d send my precious wordlings out
to represent the clan, paired two-by-two,
all starched and pressed and polished. (Sister Shout
in Whisper’s hand-me-downs would never do.)

I’d ration them accordingly, by size
and personality, their daily packs
of pointed punctuational supplies
plus one cliché to carry on their backs.

But only when they’re safely home at dark
would I release an exclamation mark.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2000