~after Taha Muhammad Ali’s, “There Was No Farewell”
When the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Mother blows Her whistle,
Game over. Time’s up, She will send
a small plane over Manhattan
trailing a banner, Atta-Girl with my name
and hand-write a note on -engraved
stationery to praise that I got It,
It being the gift of free will.
When that time comes, I want Her
to catch me in a sea of puppies
or circus of children—all named for me—
in carousel colors vying for my lap.
We’ll be on the grounds of my estate
—not named for me, for that would be
in poor taste—but land I’ll have placed in trust
(complete with conservation easements)
from my cash award and unlimited use
of gerunds as a Nobel Laureate for
Not Backing Down From A Proper Fight
and Even Provoking Some, and
my acceptance speech will go viral, displayed
in the Smithsonian to inspire
generations of young girls, their fathers,
some brothers, and most mothers.
Yes, that’s how I see it.
Good night. God bless. I love you all.
Published in Emrys Journal, Hub City Press.