Morgan Michaels Poems

And if a Longhi hung
Someday, in my living room
I'd wouldn't let it go for nothing-
To even the man in the moon.
...

'C'mon', I said, 'admit it. It doesn't really say anything. Or, it says anything you want, rather. Of course, it's pretty and all'.

We sat by the river at an old card table, sipping green tea from small cups. It would soon be evening and the moon was due. The table was not lame and the tea did not spill, nevertheless. Nearby, some yellow willow wands decorated with new, green sprigs dangled actively when the wind fell or rose passively when it blew. Some small tree spiders were busily spinning webs in the branches.
...

Her English was improving by the minute, thanks to my influence, I guessed.

'But what's the secret of it'?
...

'Is that good for children- to enslave their little minds to such drudgery? Let them be children. Let them learn about religion.
Why, next, we'll be expecting them to be quiet and sit still. That seems like a dangerous trend'.

She laughed.
...