M.P. Powers

italics

one day I would like to do 
what the highbrow poets do 
and write about things the common man 
has probably never seen or experienced 
things that certify me as cultured.
things like plumeria
or escargots de bourgogne 
consumed while suppering 
with a coterie of upper crust intellectuals
at a michelin-rated restaurant in Milan.

one day I would like to show everyone 
my inspiring bridgehampton home
my creature comforts; 
the villanelles I typewrite by candlelight
cinnamon dolce lattes, my garden with its dew-heavy
mustard greens 
and swiss chard
seeding the Japanese birdfeeder, 
gunnison sage-grouse pecking at the basin, 
my socks
and long johns ironed by the wife.
mortgage paid off, zoom interview on tap 
with a likeminded 
editor enjoying similar luxuries.

one day I would like to do away with you
unwashed, uneducated
working-class
pricks
and live a life where everything – including
the people – would be worthy 
of italics.