Morgan Michaels Poems

Heaven, it's half past seven-
time to throw the covers off
the sun is shining through the blinds.
And- well, can you beat that-?
...

Ovid, or whoever it was, got it all wrong
And for that alone was justly packed off:
He has been greatly wronged, Theseus, poor lad,
Who, closing on thirty, was not longer awfully young-
...

My dear, when people disagree with you
Must you conclude they dislike you?
That's irrational
And terribly self-indulgent.
...

'Venus! It's you! '
'You recognize me? '
'Anywhere! Is that your Meryl Streep look? '
'Very funny.'
...

Into the azure drink beside me and that was that.
I guess I should consider myself lucky:
I could have been soup, my shell slung on a wall
Sporting a tape-patched bullet hole. Ah, well.
...

Into the purple sea, feet first
along the whale's black back
stuck with barnacles and whorls of worms
slips the man from the boat
...

It was all very troubling:
after seven years of marriage to her whiny husband
with whom he exchanged a functional loathing
when their virtual twin-ship must needs be admitted
...

Like twin ghazal of origin co-eval
each a brandish bound and confessional
falling satellite-like through the seven rings
of very little I quit balking to recall
...

1,3,2,4,1,3,2,4,1...

3....2......4.....
...