Market Forces Poem by Joanne Burns

cough up quotations

from that fossilized

string bag

of early scholarship

jute or nylon,

generic cotton

a tangled net like

dna

mutated

temporarily lost

for

words

at the inquisition of quality

communication

old

phrases parts of

speech

shoot out


into the kangaroo court

of air

around your mouth

as if a fine

powder

of chilli

had infiltrated

your throat


baa baa

black market

my vile hen this is

the season

of our discontinuity how can

a rat

a dog a plate of pink

ice cream have a

media life

while you

are

wracked upon a

wheel

of nursery rhyme see how

you

scatter all experience

is

an arch

for jack and jill

o incey wincey

spider

thou art sick

of

mellow fruitfulness

into the valley

of drapers' shops

rides

little mary fawcett

with

bess that innkeeper's

black-eyed

daughter there's

a whole lotta shakin' goin' on peggy sue

now

is the hour when

we must urge

all leopard skin pill box

hats of the world

to look into their

moth holes

and remember the paint

is

peeling off

the painted oceans and

painted ships have

lost

their plimsoll lines