POEM: Holdings

 

Holdings

 

by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

 

 

In a shoe box,

only two matched Mary Janes will fit.

I am hearing applause,

but I am waiting for wit.

 

This candleholder on my sill

is fashioned to hold only three tapers.

Will each use a teleprompter,

or will notes be on small papers?

 

That booth in the corner

will seat only four.

Do I hear laughter?

Do we want something more?

 

This plastic carton from a neighborhood shop

holds only six generously frosted cupcakes.

Will reporters misunderstand,

or will they count mistakes?

 

On Sundays or at weddings,

this wooden pew holds only eight.

Is the Green Room charged,

or is the atmosphere sedate?

 

At Metro Market, this styrofoam carton

holds precisely twelve eggs–grade-A.

What grade will each person waiting in the wings earn?

At this point, who can say?

 

How many cans will fit into one recycling bin?

How many oranges will fit into this crate?

How many presidential candidates can fit on one stage

to enrich Americans with a fruitful debate?

 

 

Enjoy this fifth season of the year–the political season!

Alice and Zoe

 

August 5, 2015, Wednesday

 

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