Poems
by Cattail Jester

 

 

 

Glider

 

old grandmother got

her glider,

riding it to the sky

 

around noon, they could

see her flashing by,

neighbors rumoring

about how fast she flew

 

"And at her age," they

said, tsk-tsk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Routine Creature

 

she was a routine

creature of clockwork

style

 

until she wasn't

until she came unwound

now what an unfortunate

event

 

the unraveling

of her many lists.

 

 

 

 

 

Tongue in Cheek

 

place it firmly there,

sexy and athletic lady,

you say, just like a pin

cushion

 

open mouth, insert

universe.  well, that's how

it goes,  anyway.

 

any old way.

 

 

 

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