Many of you (okay, 2/3 of you) know that I’m a big fan of tiny poetry –– i.e. poems, like Kay Ryan’s, that look like toothpicks laid out across the page, or ones that, like Ogden Nash’s, are quip-sized morsels of verse. That’s why I was so pleased to stumble upon the work of Opal Miller, who it seems is a recluse with a checkered past to boot! My favorite! Below is a Ryan, a Nash, and a Miller, just because it’s Monday and I know it’s been tough for you. (I’ve staggered them as well. I thought that might be helpful for you. You’re welcome.)
Eggs
We turn out
as tippy as
eggs. Legs
are an illusion.
We are held
as in a carton
if someone
loves us.
It’s a pity
only loss
proves this.
(Ryan)
Always Marry an April Girl
Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true —
I love April, I love you.
(Nash)
The Balloon
What happens if the black balloon
bursts as the tide goes out and
the wax drips and
she falls?
(Miller)
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