Vox Populi

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Gary Margolis: Visiting Poet

         for the Midland School in Los Olivos


No one told me I would be sitting

across the table from Deyanira, number

two wife of Hercules, the name her parents


assigned her. Sitting in her classroom

at the foot of Grass Mountain,

a dry Olympus.  Where the gods


wear masks of spiders and snakes,

the dead drum their Chumash bones.

No one gave me a heads up, across the road


supplicants still come to the gates

of Neverland, to leave notes to his

ghost, songs of allegations and love.


Everything that happened that was done.

Isn’t a poem where we name horses

and women, where a goddess is saved


from rape by a god? Blood is

a river, even in this drought.

I want to assign you, too, a line you can


dream on and then write.

You can bring to class tomorrow

when I am gone. Imagine you were


named for a goddess like Deyanira

gazing out the window, thinking

of that boy across the road, that young


man, writing his note, honoring the living

dead, hat-tilted, one-gloved, dancing

his moon walk.


Copyright 2017 Gary Margolis


A vineyard in Los Olivos, California

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This entry was posted on November 2, 2017 by in Humor and Satire, Poetry and tagged , , , , .

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