Problems with Politics

ARISTOPHANIC COLLITERATION

Tell me a tale of droll tricks.

Sing me a song of choices.

Wind up my watch the witch way.

Feel down my fringe: the fringe feels.

Know that these nights are missed, so

let me say “love” once you leave.

ANAPESTIC BROKEN

Every vehicle passes in urgently murmuring style.

Interchanging, they sweep on around between causeway and pyl-

    on. And on, from the morning, from the time of the lightening dark.

If the vehicles rattle their darkness, their onwards, they spark-

    le their turns through her sleep. Under glass that has frozen, she spins.

Even older, this cat in her sleep will still prick up her tins-

    el-hued ears at each rattling sweep, of these hours and this mile.

ADONIC AICILL

Salt of the slack sea

slips through her free hair.

All will have care here,

beaches of drear days.

Cold are the glaze-glass

pools among grass slaked,

fetid of caked brine,

over which whine gulls.

Scroungers in lulls’ wash

fly from the splash, tricked,

ruffled then pricked back.