It’s growing up diagonally
At 64 and remembering
September 11
(Not specifically because
Cousin Ricki
Was there...)
It’s the tick-tacking accuracy
Of whether anthrax spores
Are absorbed
In our
Hung-over
Morning coffee
... Pseudo market forces,
PC hackers
(Con amore)
Or trilingual brokers
Ensnared by
A crust of
Bullion rising
That collars the phrase – we
Become
What we deplete.
MACHIAVELLI REVISITED
No one lives here any more, so how
Is it you found me
Thwack-happily accosted by chores?
Yes. It’s the Sabbath – and dare
I objurgate your
Sunday best’s just too solemn
For my taste. Wise up. The young
Could do with a good rumble
Just ask that
Punk berating parrot how Homeric
Underpinnings took flight
The day I evened old scores.
Still – why not
Cut to the crux
Of the crime...
Ah! Mentoring is narcissism’s
Elixir. Naturally
I’ll give it spin
Only next time
Send me
A new-born.
RADIO FREE EUROPE & BEYOND “KISS”
Dexterity was put on hold
As the bombs dropped.
Submissively, the woman
Tossed coarse salt
Over both shoulders,
Steadied the cut-glass pitcher
And folded curd
In a spotted napkin.
When the panting corridor of air
Spiralled
It slapped
The courtyard-child
(Her child)
Oblivion-bound.
Omitted is the sound
Of love’s collision.
Stefanie Bennett, ex-blues singer & musician, has published 12 books of poetry, a novel, & a libretto & works with NO Nukes: Art Action For Peace as well as ‘Equality.’ Of mixed ancestry (Italian/Irish/Paugussett-Shawnee), she was born in Queensland, Australia. Stefanie is currently working on New & Selected Poems.
