The origin of every fortune is a crime.
The ides of March are a dangerous time.
The ideas of March originate in wind.
Madness may spring from a mind that hasn’t sinned.
The guides of March have scary stories to tell.
The family money came from a corpse and an oil well.
The editors of March fly to the moon and bring back April.
The original sinner has learned to shave and say “I will.”
You can trace each legacy back to the day
when the id of March exposed the ego’s feet of clay.
The dice of March roll on the green felt tabletop.
The suicides of March drive past the octagonal sign: Stop!
On the dais of March sit the deceased father and mother.
Every happy family is different from every other.
Thanks, David, for this extremely witty, cogent and tonic poem. --March Heir
Posted by: David Schloss | March 19, 2022 at 11:37 AM
Thank you, David Schloss. For this comment -- and for "The Heartbreak as an Ancient Instrument."
Posted by: David Lehman | March 20, 2022 at 09:28 AM
Thanks, David. Was it Paul Violi who wrote: "Beware the March of Dimes!"
Posted by: Terence Winch | March 20, 2022 at 02:44 PM
David, thanks for posting this brilliant poem. Especially love "when the id of March exposed the ego's feet of clay." And the boffo last couplet.
Posted by: Angela Ball | March 22, 2022 at 07:01 AM
Thanks, Angela. This was an enjoyable poem to write!
Posted by: David Lehman | March 22, 2022 at 10:42 AM