proclaim me naught as mother
proclaim me as the monument

infinite O our mothers’ love
only the best for her children
O no mother would
swallow whole if she could
a glutton for glorious silver

only a monument would ever
be so obstinate and unbending
because they can and so wilfully they consumed
(so so close to becoming postmodern)
singing this and then that anthem:

– the plateau is the epitome
poetry so rich so dreamy
reading poetry and stars to see
exports and high teas
endorsement and me me me
dragonflies and fleas
flying high on humanities

up up
and away
higher
and higher
high in the sky
oh sigh
the endless high
—
April 2023

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