Two Poems — Jnana Hodson


Calico Florist

He remembers I’m hand-chiseled frugality,
no matter what. Still, I’m never chaotic,
even when I’ve been swept away.

Since I’m a vanity-mirror opera fanatic,
she insists I’ve been outside the White House.
I won’t conclude an ornamental bargain

once I’ve arranged an empire or a minstrel.
Sing all you want, I’m still no domestic issue.
When I saunter to the decanter neck

emphatically, you say I’m barely primrose.
After dwelling so long on the prairie,
I worship the painted sideboard.


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The Current Mayor's Wife

I’ve been as seriously underweight
as a cut-glass reverie. Still, I’m not betting
on the next campaign. With this alligator farm

I won’t get on your hand-braided nerves.
Once anemic, I’m now a resilient pillow, see,
and ever-so-drowsy. No matter

if I’m not fulfilling mother-of-pearl
daydreams, she insists
I’ve been with her on spring hayrides.

Why don’t I remember? We jitterbugged,
for certain, in that era
that now makes me cognac weepy.

Please ask the pianist
to play me something
I don’t already know.



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