Francie Lynch Poems

We believe female circumcision
Is barbaric,
But boys should look like their Dads,
It's traditional, like swinging a dead cat
...

No muses need apply.
There are no vacancies.
The muse pool is brimming
With metaphors:
...

Proud I was with my shoveling,
Moving snow to the end of the drive,
Lifing loads, shovelling high.
The armlifts created pyramids,
...

The three-legged stool
Wobbles, and I have sat
Waiting to be knocked
As one tumbles a tall
...

Winter amassed his victories
With cold clear spears,
Lined along eaves;
Cannon clouds hurling
...

I counted
Thirty-three flies
Stuck
On the fly-paper.
...

Start and stop
Up the street,
Turn 180,
Repeat the beat.
...

Where are our clowns
With baggy waist-coats
Filled with promises;
Clowns wearing
...

I hear a motor
In my head,
Cranking, moaning,
Turning, turning...
...

This mortar bowl
With a pestled mixture
Of distillations
And impurities
...