Three Poems by KJ Hannah Greenberg
Superman’s “Gift” to Lois Lane
Superman’s real benefit to Lois was naught, After all,
Children of psychotic parents can’t be blamed;
Misunderstanding social interactions’ language happens.
Some folk fail to advance beyond elementary clabber.
Their gradual adherence to larger norms proves, repeatedly,
Extensive villainy from intelligence-seeking mad scientists, plus
Shows dispossessed peoples’ confused mores.
They morph into manumissions of wild, but unhelpful sorts.
Cultural credit maxed out, such prattlers prove lethal,
Moreso than kryptonite, multiple job losses or
Nursing stations bereft of Cheshire cats.
Alice’s wonders about going dancing with madness, again.
Meanwhile, Ms. Lane’s knotted over ecological charges,
Tsks human agents, ill-tempered bank managers, disgruntled elderly cousins
Lectures on syntax, via distance learning channels; no point in harming hostages;
Profits require live victims, wry wit, strong stomachs.
Fame’s illuvium rarely becomes the province of tribal waldos.
Planet Kal-El’s seeds were eaten after roasting.
Such tiffins, penultimate at best, rest uneasily on young reporters;
Their pong smells for galactic miles.
Widowed young, those gals advise windowsill gardening,
The cultivation of vegetables, fruits, other foodstuffs.
“Women’s acts,” within whose auspices,
The worst nostrum remains, credentialed like electromagnetic powers,
Also, sometimes mistaken for bluestocking wonder.
In truth, our Daily Planet’s better served by golden spiny mice,
Fat sand rats and armies of pregnant tarantulas.
Geopolitical surgeries, like risk aspiration,
Require anesthesia even for gelatinous beasts and cultural theorists.
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Another Wave-Washed Fire Opal in Hollywood
Two beach glass pebbles with shared chromosomes,
Watched high tides scoring our childhood home,
Yet Malibu lightning leaves you suffering alone;
We’re segmented by the salt and the sea.
Gilded gift wrappings suppress actual needs,
Tiffany fixtures, gin, fog memories,
Unlisted numbers quell quieted deeds;
I’m mere words on an answering machine.
Lush wardrobes bait ineffectual dreams,
Parents’ view becomes graft of esteem,
Plus purchased embrasures make integrity lean;
You shore up our compromised family tree.
Kissy-faced strangers pander you utterly,
Mirrored distortions, their discourse is southerly,
They hunt your fine treasures, want your money’s certainty;
They’re happy to hide truth below shorelines dutifully.
When happens that funeral, to unanswered love,
Measured enlightenment cancels wisdoms above,
Ethos’ revival looses when purchased friends’ provide song;
Just my eye water’s left to cover your stone.
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Runaway Mamma (In Two Part Harmony)
So many engines blast the past on FM.
I think on high fraternity shoulders,
Nights flavored with marijuana-wine,
(Spirit Dancing).
Certain sanctuaries salvaged painting space for me, who
Pumped iron, laid emotionally naked, in the sun,
Teaching classes by the get go.
(The Best Times).
Still, my daughter creates havoc early,
Chasing cats while cottage cheese gooks,
Dumping Duplos into toilets.
(Flushed Again).
Springtime's softly gone. Goodbye!
Fishers squat bankside,
Flower sales deck wide the highways.
(Then Die).
Such my husband softwares normally,
Playing bridge, with lunch and talk
Reading fancies summer evenings;
(Science Fiction).
Soliloquy; I've run away, since
Park bins regularly ban Pampers.
No man follows. Absconded woman’s delight.
(Mom's Free).
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