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Poetry By
Michaela A. Gabriel
November Rules of Conduct
1
sharpen your dorothy parker attitude
between mouthfuls of stale arguments
at the kitchen table. castigating pears
simply isn't an option at this time of year.
2
count your freckles by moonlight, divide
the number by seven and you know how long
you'll have to wait for a poinsettia sunrise.
3
copy out heretical quotes from every
banned book you read cover to cover,
declaim them every time red wine and
cayman island postcards let you down.
4
hide all knives on lonely evenings.
the great kitchen monster might stir
in its sleep, awake to the brilliance of blades.
5
do not discuss wittgenstein with your
reflection. philosophical investigations
into the language game are like playing
peek-a-boo with faces seen from a train.
6
break at least one rule, but don't
expect chuckles for disregarding this one.
smartness cannot be that cheap.
7
hire a cleaner called magda. her polish
flood of words, broad hips and silver hair
will frighten books into neat rows, dust
out of every corner. shipshape's the word.
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