Apostrophe à Go-Go

O, pardon me, I'm bored
with the nouveau O lassoing
poems as though they were bars
of soap as big as selves

in cellophane. Clean soap
pressed into staying shapes
minus pessimism's
whited sepulchre and itch.

Urgent little swallow, fly
your olive branch
into design...elide
in bubbles foaming down:

pulchritude to pretty,
form to form, o driver, o
fulcrum, o splice, o pliers.
See the lower case turn

into a washer? The O proclaims
we still crave halos.

Copyright © 2005 Kathleen Halme III All rights reserved
from 32 Poems
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission