Of Thee I Sing
They sing the traditional notes
if it is, if it is, if it is,
it is if, is it if, if if if
and I (d’oh) get stuck way behind,
so (lalala re ti) fa,
me (mi) me.
I slobber notes as if my uvula
were throwing off bitter tonic.
But they, if it is,
spit them out
as cleanly as discarded teeth,
so porcelain white because
they sucked off our blood first.
· · ·
Hope Fill
Hope gathers in my mouth
but I don’t know how much
it will take to fill it. Molars
grind as if sanding anxiety.
My tongue feels swollen as
if allergic to such emotion.
Taste buds also are confused
by sweetness bitter-tinged.
I mistakenly bite my inside
cheek. The blood dries up
to let hope fill my mouth.
I gulp air, more than air.
I can’t hold my breath long,
but hope, o hope, I can hold.
· · ·
The Red Cap and the Pussy Hat
(with apologies to Edward Lear)
I
The Red Cap and the Pussy Hat oft disagree
while ignoring their sinking boat,
as they proclaim to be sailing sea to shining sea
yet common ground they don’t note.
The Red Cap pondered riches high above,
And said to the Pussy Hat under the stars:
“O enemy Pussy! O Pussy, my enemy,
What an ignorant Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What an ignorant Pussy you are!”
II
Pussy Hat said with a scowl, “Cap, you’re so foul.
I know you want to rule everything!
But you seem harried of a world so varied
and so you won’t have me under your wing!”
They went on their way, four years to the day,
In the land where every swamp thing grows,
And just as it should the Stylish Fascinator stood
To proudly sing, “The Pussy, she knows.
She knows,
She knows!”
To proudly sing, “The Pussy, she knows.”
III
“O’ Fass,” said Cap, “Unwilling to stop your shrilling?”
“I will indeed sing,” said the Fascinator, “I will.”
So what could they say, but kept on their way
and glimpsed fat turkeys on Capitol Hill.
Were they so blinded, everyone strong-minded?
Red Cap and Pussy Hat thought each a buffoon.
Yet hand in hand, all across the fabled land,
We chanced on the learned and the loon,
The loon,
The loon,
We chanced on the learned and the loon.—Submitted on 09/19/2022
Ronnie Sirmans is a metro Atlanta newspaper digital editor whose poems have appeared in Tar River Poetry, Plainsongs, The American Journal of Poetry, What Rough Beast, and elsewhere.
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Editor’s Note: The series title A River Sings is borrowed from “On the Pulse of Morning,” the poem read by Maya Angelou at the inauguration of Bill Clinton in 1993.
