After Barbara Hamby
Comfort me, warm swarm of air, perfumed by newly mown grass–
sweetly surround my swollen jaw. In my dentist’s parking lot,
wrap aromatic fronds around my hurting places, tease me
with the hint of lavish glamour you exude. The sky swells
with romantic promise from your secret holds. Dribble your juices
over me as I resist the Garmin’s supplications, while alabaster petals
fall from Magnolia trees onto my windshield. Tempt me to eccentric
routes away from the highway’s hills and their odorless coats
of invasive honeysuckle. Allow me to be pungent and neighborly,
the way of the bratwurst I ate as a child, each butcher a conjuror
of distinct flavors. Discipline me into disobedience, shape me
into vapor, perplex me with possibility. Allay this ache.
Peggy Turnbull studied anthropology in college and has a master’s in library and information science. She has written all her life, mostly in diaries, but after returning to her birthplace in Wisconsin, she began to write poems. Read them in Ariel Chart, Writers Resist, and Verse-Virtual or visit https://peggyturnbull.blogspot.com/ .