Jennifer Litt     Fort Lauderdale    (Susan Williamson)
March

I’d like to revise the weather proverb to this--March
comes in like a twice-thawed iguana & out like a Key deer; 
I’d like to rewrite Act 3, Scene 1 of Shakespeare’s Julius
Caesar, so Caesar eats himself to death on Little Caesar’s
Italian Sausage Pizza, because March is not about murder,
but about suicide; I’d like to say to every Pisces embellisher
of truth — the fault is in your stars & the lies you tell yourself.
I’d like to clear the sidewalks of St. Patrick’s Day drunks
lying in their puke after the parade, give them the evil ides.
Uber me to a sanctuary where the healer exorcises green
iguanas digging burrows inside of me, wreaking havoc
on my infrastructure & infecting me with lethargy. I’d 
like to protect my solitude, as the nearly extinct Key
deer found its niche on the endangered species list.
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