Hello there. Welcome to my safe house.
Here you will find numerous porcelain Afghanistans.
In the safe house safe there are coins cut the shape
of Malawi. In the study where I wish you to relax please
find a number of wood carvings of John Lennon & Sons.
The lampshades are German. The Persian rugs are tongue.
Kind sir, halt! Do not issue another fatwā in Farsi!
Not until you consider my landscape painting of Trebižat, that great
Bosnian river or Smith’s high realist triptych of the Tunguska event.
Hello there. It would please me to please you with
kindness upon entering my safe house door. If anything
should irradiate the staff, there are replacement menservants
ready in waiting to greet you beside the blown up photos
of gargoyles on the veranda in the cosmic burst garden.
Baker’s Dozen Sci Fi Sonnet feat. Charlotte Brontë’s Dress made of an H-O Junk Bond Rating
Mon sem-blah-blah-ounce, this fission sonnet
is a dumb blonde standing on a melting Mont Blanc
junk bonded to “O, that I spent
my childhood in the Alps.” Come to think of it…
I am an Alp.
What kind of hydrogen peroxide form yells “let me out
of the Brontë house?” In Haworth, I tried on
Charlotte’s dress— my waist’s circumference
a smaller 0 than the 19th century where her energy’s stored.
Indifferent horizon! Fizzing fuzz cell hell fusion cuisine!
Bomb of was, you never were! Us girls put petroleum products
on our lips to kiss. Swiss chocolate, I think that alp
is anorexic. Atomic mass diet. Synthesis. Mon, whatever.
Bikram Yoga Sonnet
I was tired because I have a two year old
so I took some NoDoz. And then my heart flipped
out and I needed to relax so I went to a yoga studio.
And it was like the world was made of awkward
pose. And then life turned Caribbean
in a head stand. And then I passed
out in underwater aqua-
marine roses and stars. I think the teacher said “plank”
which meant I was a pirate in colorful
spandex with a nose ring and booty
or maybe it meant that the world was ending
and soon I would become very flexible.
I hope no one here is concerned. The teacher said
some poses take a lifetime to learn.
I am organizing an Atlanta 100 Thousand Poets for Change event in September
Sandra Simonds grew up in Los Angeles, California. She earned a B.A. in Psychology and Creative Writing at U.C.L.A and an M.F.A. from the University of Montana, where she received a poetry fellowship. In 2010, she earned a PhD in Literature from Florida State University. She is currently finishing a second full-length collection of poems called Mother was a Tragic Girl. She is the author of Warsaw Bikini (Bloof Books, 2008), which was a finalist for numerous prizes including the National Poetry Series; she is also the author of several chapbooks including Used White Wife (Grey Book Press, 2009) and The Humble Travelogues of Mr. Ian Worthington, Written from Land & Sea (Cy Gist, 2006). Her poems have been published in many journals including Poetry, The Believer, the Colorado Review, Fence, the Columbia Poetry Review, Barrow Street, Volt, the New Orleans Review and Lana Turner. Her Creative Nonfiction has been published in Post Road and other literary journals. She currently lives in Tallahassee, Florida and is an Assistant Professor of English at Thomas University in beautiful, rural Southern Georgia.