Politics, Like Sardines by KJ Hannah Greenberg

Politics, Like Sardines

KJ Hannah Greenberg

Politics, like sardines, pool specialized insights,
Determine which variety of means can facilitate
First parenting, then retirement, finally moving
To places like Philadelphia, where clerks force
Paperwork habits to sit up and take notice.

Further, places of diplomatic goings on, castles,
Dungeons, embassies, seek germane domiciles,
Maybe gingerbread houses, Romanian zip codes,
Persist in refashioning salubrious habits, in detailed
Explorations of established employees' depravities.

Thereafter, recognizable, highly desirable photos,
Thumbnail-sized, signifying choice bookshop goods,
Perhaps affable character traits, provide reasons, solicit
Security urgencies, put health issues in perspective,
Shaming toward obedience truculent others’ drageoirs.

We would not exist, not function while subsisting, if,
Repeatedly, we forgot “much thanks” or “please, Dear.”
Nonetheless, speculative fiction’s success cases kowtow
Toward recondite knowledge, sell hundreds of thousands
Promotional notations based on toilet graffiti plus scat.

Reflecting on starry wonder felt when conceptual thrift
Agitates, contextualized by abundant adipose tissue,
Strange blood sugar numbers, perhaps wide-ranging
Mercenaries, grants puckish lambs and circus clowns,
Alike, rights to fetid farragoes and brunoised ideas.

Consider that the costuming of profound thoughts
As well as insights into fiduciary invasions, remains
Little help when pushed into full-time exploration,
Babysitting violent others, training Andalusian horses,
Or removing thorns from juvenile wombats’ paw pads.

KJ Hannah Greenberg, who only pretends at being indomitable, tramps across literary genres and giggles in her sleep. As well, she eats oatmeal and keeps company with a prickle of (sometimes rabid) imaginary hedgehogs. Her newest books are: Cryptids (Bards & Sages Publishing, 2015), and Word Citizen: Uncommon Thoughts on Writing, Motherhood & Life in Jerusalem (Tailwinds Press, 2015).

ISSUE NINE: Y'all Reset My S | next poem →