Morgan Michaels Poems

Magda is strange.
She will easily abuse the rules of human decency
Which is to say, the rules of human reason,
And confute every evidence
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Sunflower, you've grown:
The fist shaken in the sun's face
Now splits to show
Fingers of suppliant gold;
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Must value judgements
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Jesse James and Wyatt Earp were playing poker.
It was hot and very close in the Kansas saloon.
The bugs preferred to crawl, it was too much work to fly.
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'Whoa- too much information
I cried, stopping her mouth
but succumbed many times
as the thunder rolled overhead.
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Contrails and distrails-
which is which,
and which is this,
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I've found it pleasant to name them after stars-
Though they often behave more like fishes
Darting from nowhere as they're wont to
Like hidden, fimbriated wishes;
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Break, break, break
On thy cold, grey stones, O sea,
If I could but say, for heaven's sake,
what's really eating me.
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Regardless what then
you did or didn't feel
the bullets now are real.
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