For my Patty, obviously—a bit of doggerel to make you laugh
you’re a rich bitch, book witch
archivist, punk artist
rebellion librarian
poet of this world
nineteen years we’ve lived as peers
though debt and doubt and drought and fears
riot, triumph, treason, tears
we chafe as sand to pearl
Don’t know ‘bout the vote tonight
what song to sing, what note to strike
my heart is shrieking like a shrike
impaled on my bones
but there you are, my desert star
my pattyhawk, my mollymawk
midst monster trucks and splattershock
to pacify our jones
Hyperbolize or idolize:
Your carny-core, your cat-lined eyes?
Your Halloween-embodied being?
You goofy scarecrow clown!
Gothic, mythic, goblin, sapphic
Rhythmic, scary, sexy, graphic
Miss America/na Murderfolk
O hag-rose of our town
When shall we two meet again?
In Malpais or New England?
The Zoom, the Meet, the Chat, DM?
The Street of Many Porches?
Wish I could be there some-way
En-nachoed, tacoed, low-key yay
Light candles for you on this day
That really should be torches
C.S.E. Cooney 