PRAYER
Oh Tinder Angel, rescue me
from men with diets gluten-free,
who never drink in restaurants,
gulp garlic pills, look deathly gaunt
and suffer lactose allergies.
They sniff most disapprovingly
when I knock back the fifth Chablis
and tuck into a cheese croissant.
Oh rescue me.
Just as I think I need to pee,
they clasp a hand upon my knee,
then move in close, all nonchalant,
to drone of apples in Vermont
and saving all the bumble bees.
Oh rescue me.
—from Rattle #59, Spring 2018
Tribute to Immigrant Poets
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Sue O’Dea: “I am a Brit who has been living in New York City for three years. I moved from the leafy suburbs of London to slap-bang in the middle of Midtown Manhattan. The noise, the pollution, the general lunacy of the place sends me a little crazy. But I love the way this city never ceases to surprise me. Every day, at least one remarkable and strange thing happens. And this, of course, works as good inspiration toward writing poetry.”
