The Countess of Flatbroke
by Mary Meriam

I shun the man-made world and stay at home.
This suits the world, since I am very queer.
I eat my spinach quiche and write a poem.
I like my chair and bed; it’s pleasant here.
Except one little problem, namely cash,
which threatens to undo my little life.
The bank account is headed for a crash.
The fridge is empty—where’s my working wife?
What happens when a poet lives beyond
the time she would have died, except for fate?
A strange career, but not designed to bond
somebody to a steady job this late.
I have no skills in generating wealth.
I’ve spent my time recovering my health.

The Bitter Side of Flatbroke
by Mary Meriam

Some people lead an easy life, from birth
to death, connected, pampered, lucky, rich,
convinced that smiling fate defines their worth,
quite safe and snug and settled in their niche.
I wonder why I can’t be one of them.
If I had money, I’d have time to write
and read and socialize with any femme
or butch or in-between who came in sight.
Or spend my time alone or take a trip.
Then I could call my life a life and not
this constant jungle fight to get a sip
of water, find a place to rest, too hot,
too cold, too worried, hungry, lost, alone.
Perhaps someone will throw this dog a bone.

Mary Meriam is the author of two poetry chapbooks, The Countess of Flatbroke and The Poet’s Zodiac, and the editor of Lavender Review.