General Poetry posted January 31, 2018


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Non isosceles nonet

Sixteen percent

by LIJ Red

What child's this, that laid to rest, half-fed,
mom's boyfriend's fist upside her head--
few collards, some week-old bread
scared mute, and full of dread
heard what anchor said
"Recession's fled!
Wealth ahead!"
Cold bed.
Dead.

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Can't do it, oh fellow Fanstorian who thought I should try.
No way I can make the perfect triangle. Mangled the syntax trying. Made a cute, jolly nonet, though.
Sixteen percent of Americans are at poverty level....
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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