In the swelter of summer
I pour my morning coffee
over ice cubes huddled
at the bottom of a tall glass.
they pause for a bit of
eeny meeny tekel upharsin
to sort out who will go first
before decorously rising
The Sinister Spoon
It doesn’t leave ghastly gashes
or transfix you with tines.
But sneak up behind it
and it will splay your cheekbones.
Confront it head-on
and it will turn you upside down.
I inhabit a realm of points and polka dots.
I clean my glasses, yet every fish
remains a trout, each cat an ocelot.
Here’s a blessing: the measles that rampage
over the skin of the universe
scare me not at all.
My viscous humor maculates the world.
Thus do my friends (escapees from Seurat)
take comfort in the knowledge
that their every blemish
is safely lodged in the eye of the beholder.
Esther Greenleaf Murer has been a library cataloguer, composer, editor, indexer, and literary translator. In her old age she is learning to be a poet, and has recently published a collection, Unglobed Fruit. Once in a while she remembers to add to her blog. She lives in Philadelphia.