Poetry by Jnana Hodson

 

 

PARK BENCH REGULAR

You’ve said I’m your hefty friend.
Admittedly, I’ve been dismissed so many times
I’m not butting mossy heads.

When I’ve been derided,
I’m not bon vivant slapdash, no sir.
She insists I pray in secret

after I’ve been laid off.
Since I’m a male of the tropical species
I won’t make a mountain out of a regimental molehill.

At least I’m four-season childless
and not bottoming out.
Just remember, I’ve been on hopsack relief.

I keep wondering
where the turtles go.

 

 

STEEL-HEARTED REPORTER

Most of the time, I reside in an ingot manor.
At least when I’m not scrolling the wire
where I’ve frozen your iconic buttons.

She insists I’m trembling
but you say I’ve sweltered every time
I fail to pull off a masterful stunt.

Although I’ve been somebody’s dreamboat
I’m not issuing an ultimatum.
No matter what, I’m a muleskinner

who wonders, of course,
why I’m not allowed to take charge
instead of just fiddling.

 

 

About the Author

Jnana finds that so much depends on turning the compost the first time in spring before he trims the hedges. His work has also appeared in recent editions of Hobart, Jack Magazine, Shampoo, Tryst, and xStream.