“Birthday Poem for Ariana Reines, Beginning with Two Lines Written by Jonathan Swift in His Sleep” [by Anthony Madrid via Facebook]

ARIANA REINES  (10/24)

I follow no man, a hawk in my fist:
Nor am I brilliant whenever I list.

The saints on their mats | said prayers to the goddess
Not too effective, if we’re being honest

The goddess is gone | she’s off on an errand
Judging each case with regard to its merit

But thirty-two years | of knocking about,
Irony, chaos, defiance and doubt

Have tended to lift | the saints from their mats
Hundred percent if you look at the stats

I wanted to sparkle! I wanted to learn!
Nobody told me it wasn’t my turn

The Reines in our spines | fall meinly in signs
With anapest anapest anapest lines

She follows no man | the goddess it’s true
My friend Ariana has turned thirty-two

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