When I Read Homer

When I read Homer
Flames of fire are indigo purple
And there’s never a lick of black
Or gray. Or fog. Or dried salami.
No auf Wiedersehen on cello strings
Which kind of changes everything.

When I read Homer
To to be sure, I’m not Helen
But I am Troy dictating to these bricks
Of the lavender chamomile confusion in
Every ratchet girl’s eyes, and of the protest
Or proclamation of fur now on every man’s chin.

When I read Homer
I say utterly preposterous things
Like I am Troy, don’t call me Helen!
And all of these fugly babies should
Be bounced at once on a pink eastern cloud
Or lasso one in the west in such case the east is clear.

When I read Homer
I am a Salvation Army bell
And false logic doesn’t blister
My tongue. And the earthen bricks
Absorb every single rambling word
I’ve been mulling for years, not yet recording.

Only one day left for National Poetry Writing Month. ┬áDon’t be sad.

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9 thoughts on “When I Read Homer

  1. Serena Malcolm says:

    Haha, brilliant! I know you said (on another poet’s blog) that you were struggling a bit with the one but it doesn’t show. This is so well done!

    • Thanks, Serena! I am just OCD with instructions, and I didn’t fit all 20 suggestions into this piece. Living loose and free now. Lol. Seriously feel the break from 1 a day will refresh me too. Lord knows I’ve got a lot of life piling up on my plate for May! Will you keep up your prolific writing?

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