See you in September

A poem in which I manage to condemn, in the space of one quatrain, both ISIS & Miley Cyrus.

(Some background : my maternal grandmother was born in West Branch, Iowa.  There is a statue of the goddess Isis in a park there.  Herbert Hoover was also from West Branch; the statue was a gift from the Belgian government for his services to their country after World War I.)

LACUSTRINE CIRCLE

This delicate native wanderer

like a dusty monarch (rusty-

orange) might just be

traveling incognito somewhere –

on white-winged moccasin, from

flower to flower – her agate

glance like Grandma’s (great) –

in West Branch, near the Iowa farm.

I dream of a different Isis there,

no punitive Hooverville;

another Cyrus too (there will

be no clicking Mileyhahas to prepare

with die-cut revelry your family’s

despair).  She will be veiled

only with cloudy knowledge

of the bright round pearl; salt seas

will anchor plumb her understanding;

Solomon will test

& be tested, & she

will best him (at the Ontario Fling

& other things).  A whippoorwill

accompanies their evening;

Caroline will be singing

like a wren from the oaks, a royal

Charlie... like a gal you met once –

Cal? – along the shore...

– that lacustrine circle where,

of yore, the monarch floats, hunts...

    9.1.15

"Isis.  Goddess of Life"