On Reading an Old Copy of The New Yorker

The frayed copy with its themed cover,
had a horned Pan playing his pipes,
casually leaning against an innocuous

city wall.  The trees’ leaves were lime
green. It was from before the war,
before the second election gave half

of us so much grief.  In the front,
I noticed Harold Bloom’s public talk
on Shakespeare, then read an excellent

treatise on problems of a military plan
in Iraq, whoever wrote it, thought war
would be horrific. It was nice to be

back in the past. I read a nice poem on
Erinnea of ancient Telos near Greece
and the island of Lesbos. It was a lovely

hour of reading. There still was hope.
We were not burned and burdened
by high waters and earthquakes. Red

and blue weren’t fighting words.  I was
still a mother of young girls, innocent of
preteen playground politics, my husband

and I were talking, the fights  to come hadn’t
happened, my father  alive, my sister full
of hope she could beat her terminal cancer.

Mary C. O'Malley has a MFA from Spalding University. She is a mother of five and has practiced Social Work for over twenty years. She has been published both on and offline. Some of the sites she has been in are PoetryCemetary.com, PoetryMidwest, Wordsmyth. In the past she has been published in The Mid America Poetry Review and will be in the spring issue of Cleveland State University's Whiskey Island.

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