apostrophe SSandra Simonds
Insignia me, america and don’t you go and capitalize my a and while you’re at it pronounce me with a hard “a” think of me as your hometown girl the one who is willing to milk the cows to take out the trash squawk squawk the ronald on your family farm she was mz fancy pants a diamond under each armpit a super red cape of electrical wires but the wiring was so fucked up you could never turn her on she was all malfunction a sunday school lesson right down to her torso of bad circuits—pig-tailing, yes, but no pony did come round the work bench the wrong sized wrench in your box of nuts and bolts But Synagogue Simon is here and she’s totally “hands on” the utters hands on the towards I put my minor tongue to words, hum a work song and by god, voila, anything works so hold them parallel don’t switch yet check if electricity is present like wires— don’t mix— the ses up “thread one to the black outlet and one to the red”
Sandra Simonds Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2024, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.