Notes for Never-Written Poems, II
Mary Winters
just this once, let it be true
our dead do not rise again.
What you’re giving up for Lent:
equivocal statements -- maybe.
“Santa Fe Embarrassment”:
nail polish color (expand).
When your handwriting changes,
you know something’s afoot.
A tartan plaid as familiar
to you as a friend’s face.
Wish we could have keys
in our daily lives from a computer
keyboard: Help, Delete, Cancel.
Law student intern nearly sickened
you with her cheerful enthusiasm.
Some things you just can’t make up.
Never-used titles:
Mom’s Two-Stage Withdrawal.
In the Center of All that Magic,
Song of the Refrigerator.
You let it get ugly...
Inside a stone is safe --
a paving stone is best.
The skin between your legs high up...
It’s suddenly your week to hear
from people who’ve seen
others get killed in the city --
squashed between card.
Pick me, oh, please please pick me --
but not for the Las Vegas trip.
