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Few anymore remain who know
what an apostrophe is for
or so it seems to some of us,
half schooled ourselves in parts of speech,
.
who nonetheless recoil to see
plural’s placed possessively
and then the other way around,
possessives mark just overlooked.
.
Liz thinks we ought to have a day
devoted to apostrophes
in which we add or rub them out
in bands of roving grammar louts.
.
Imagine how I’d smear the chalk
from all those signs in Berwick Street
scrawled near piles of fruit and veg:
tomato’s, cucumber’s, and beet’s,
.
and how I’d roam down Oxford Street,
magic marker tight in hand,
to doctor all those printed signs,
like “LONDONS BEST DRESSED PEOPLE WEAR.”
.
And its, my God, the it’s I’d change
(snickers, chortles as I’d work).
Red pencil this, red pencil that.
Sometimes a curl, sometimes a scratch.
.
And that’s before I’d turn my mind
to sorting out the places where
the sweet subjunctive’s gone astray.
Imperative that someone care.
Copyright 2019 Sandy Solomon
Yes, I get so frustrated with those apostrophes and non-apostrophes, too, Sandy. What a lighthearted and clever poem.
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I love this! It would be fun to band together with our red pencils (chalk or markers) and correct grammar for a couple of hours a month!
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