by Suzán Jiván, Mom
& Mom-Mom Suzán
A tougher tack
followed by blasts
after scrambling
to pull back the veil
to a closer path
in a surprise attack
of nearly half
left in players' hands
with mandated hip
and thigh pads
taken to the air
in a broadcast
of hacked scandals
shortly thereafter
while weighing the scale
of the last palpable wind plant
as a symbolic blow
rather than substantive
paring down into risky tasks
wrangling while hitched to a rail
like a restrained leap
into the ccomexities
of a dithering
girl-meets-boy story
as a subscription
for piano and orchestra
available for steaming warts and all
like arguably sought-after awards
for former false performances
in hackneyed sports
while muttering grumpily
with comeuppance
into the emotional distance
of the in fact quite similar scouting trips
while knowing exactly
what will happen to dad's old pal
in a handsome palette
with a gaggle of controlled brutality
for wallflowers
deployed with grimly familiar
flimflammers and gangbangers
that won't take no for an answer
while dumping ashes
and bone fragments
as sinister acts
backtracked evenhandedly
approved by vanity at first glance...
