Fool’s Gold

Martha Strom

my mind is a seat of glory


i’m not hungry

i’m not thirsty

don’t bother me

but i long to go inward


outside stuff is just fool’s gold

a prostitute’s lies

beckoning, seek turquoise desert lands


can this be poetry?

nothing, nothing--

a trip diverted due to poverty


the frigidity outdoors

means hot radiators within

i too burn-- not to mention


my burnout has driven me mad

my phone an abandoned beaver’s nest

clogging a river of consciousness

i give to the bronze buddha 

i kiss every day

so i close my eyes

and find spicy meat

given me by god in a dream

only then did a clementine taste orange

 

Martha Strom received a Phi Beta Kappa key when she graduated with Distinction in English from Boston University. Soon afterwards, she earned a M.A. and a Ph.D. in English Literature from Princeton. (That was during the first decade of women at Princeton.) Later, she taught English and Writing at Princeton, Brandeis, and Harvard, before moving to New York where she taught Adults with Psychiatric Disabilities; and ESL at Pace University. Now, she writes and lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Read more poems by Martha Strom here →