KJ Hannah Greenberg’s whimsical writing buds in pastures where gelatinous wildebeests roam and beneath the soil where fey hedgehogs play. She’s been nominated four times for the Pushcart Prize in Literature, and once for The Best of the Net. Hannah’s poetry books are: Mothers Ought to Utter Only Niceties (Unbound CONTENT, 2016, Forthcoming), A Grand Sociology Lesson (Lit Fest Press, 2016), Dancing with Hedgehogs, (Fowlpox Press, 2014), The Little Temple of My Sleeping Bag (Dancing Girl Press, 2014), Citrus-Inspired Ceramics (Aldrich Press, 2013), Intelligence’s Vast Bonfires (Lazarus Media, 2012), Supernal Factors (The Camel Saloon Books on Blog, 2012), Fluid & Crystallized (Fowlpox Press, 2012), and A Bank Robber’s Bad Luck with His Ex-Girlfriend (Unbound CONTENT, 2011).
Late at Night
Late some nights, friendship’s found in rhinestone
Singers, whose smooth edits surface on YouTube.
Actors with much bedazzle, similarly, bare skin,
Surface between bags of chips, maybe also pizza.
The kids are asleep, their dreams filled with future
Conquests of basketball, set theory, dance parties.
One wants to work in Special Ops. Another thinks
On ways to spend a lawyer’s salary, plus bonuses.
You’re dozing, too, enslaved to projects, so busy
With deadlines, releases, managing people who
Never birthed your babies, bought birthday gifts
For your parents, purged the tension in your neck.
I watch my papers scatter when autumn’s winds
Spit sentiments through my office window. Why
Can’t order, predictability, soft regularities enter
Where sharp corners, elbows, our overfamiliarity,
Build confusion from a few futile spousal issues?
[image: Mike Lim]