It’s National Poetry Month and That Means I Write A New Poem Every Day

The Order of Operations


I always get it wrong. Does addition come first?
Then multiplication? We are talking about equations,
He said. Right? Like balancing two sides into an answer?

Things went south. He confused me. Birdy south. Nice weather south. Biscuit, corn-pone, Robert Johnson sell your soul to the devil
South. We are talking about migration,
He said. Right? About things getting better, going somewhere nice? Things heating up? Or taking it easy?

I must admit my imaginings. Start with a porch. And a man
Who gets talking. All nervous like. Made up man. Made up.
Sheets tucked, bed made. Made up. Man made up man made.
There, I said. Stay inside the parentheses.