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Seymour, This Is Stupid Stuff

Seymour, this is stupid stuff.
Left socks. Right socks. That’s enough.
What ordered world? Won’t find it here.
Try another, distant sphere.

Spare socks are what you ask, for trading.
Think they’ll fall, like fish cascading?
Sure, I’ll send them: leopards mating,
black-tuxed penguins, bears parading—

flocks of socks, from plaid drip-dry
to hikers’ wools & mauve tie-dye.
But when soiled, you make them scamper,
two by two into the hamper.

Like Noah, may your flocks increase
with falcons, foxes, fleur-de-lis.
But if they fly south or take the bridge—
Where do socks go?

                              You tried the fridge?

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Joan E. Bauer is the author of three full-length poetry collections, Fig Season (Turning Point, 2023), The Camera Artist (Turning Point, 2021), and The Almost Sound of Drowning (Main Street Rag, 2008). Recent work has appeared in Paterson Literary Review, Slipstream and Chiron Review. For some years, she was a teacher and counselor and now divides her time between Venice, CA and Pittsburgh, PA where she co-curates the Hemingway's Summer Poetry Series with Kristofer Collins.