I don’t know why, but Frank Prem’s poetry makes me want to respond to it as more than just a reader. This came to me when I read his piece, the good news.
We bade the little bastard bye
good riddance, none’ll miss him.
A plague upon the land he was.
Rumors biblical, but I dismiss ’em.
I watched the trees shrink each spring,
the flesh on the stone did shrivel.
But I could not abide this end-of-the-world crap,
nor this climate-change-is-a-myth drivel.
No matter what you call it
I will be more than happy to see it go.
Then wait for his sister, La Niña,
who brings an entirely different kind of woe.
M. Zane McClellan
All rights reserved
In response to Frank Oren’s poem, the good news.