Pens never worry
so why should
I? And I
worry about everything.
Except pens. There
will always be
pens. Lost ones.
Found ones. Expired
ones. Disposable ones
like a cough. Like
pennies. Like milk.
Ubiquitous by design
in curdling circulation.
Give a pen –
Take a penny –
Like a deliberate
act, rebellion refines
its magical margins,
alley fights, pencils
dropped for deuces
wild, penicillin bartered
on the open
market. Too spoiled
by unlimited chance,
the pen genuflects
to its own
identity, its own
penmanship a check
mark for who
springs the convicted,
who comes up
with bail bondsmen
at this hour.
MARC MEIERKORT is a writer and educator who has taught high school English for the past 19 years. A graduate of Southern Illinois University at Carbondale (B.S.) and National-Louis University (M.A.T.), he currently lives in Chicago’s western suburbs. He has recently had poems published by Crack the Spine Literary Magazine, The Roanoke Review, The Main Street Rag, Columbia College Literary Review, and The Nassau Review.