Prayer of the Last Baby Boomer to The Madonna de la Soccorso
Give me the tongue of Nancy Sinatra: Let me truth
not lie, let me change, and not same.
Give me the cloven hooves of Satan
to walk to and fro in the earth and up and down on it.
Let me keep playing at the table. Let me gamble on a good man’s life.
Let my boots be white patent leather and fringed. Let me dance
at the bottom of the back stairs for my uncles, by the stone hibachi.
Let me dance on the horns of that old goat, the one
that is always ready to fuck, that holds the sun
between its eyes, and the moon too. Always on the cusp,
good for a joke—last spawn of the greatest generation, and boom!
this baby will grill some ribs after the wake, curse God, and die.
Jennifer Martelli’s chapbook, Apostrophe, was published in 2011 by Big Table Publishing Company. She is the recipient of the Massachusetts Cultural Council Grant in Poetry and a Pushcart Prize nominee. Most recently, her poetry has been published in Bop Dead City, Tar River Poetry, burntdistrict, Jersey Devil Press and Right Hand Pointing. She’s taught high school English and women’s literature at Emerson College. She’s an associate editor for The Compassion Project: An Anthology, and lives in Marblehead, Massachusetts with her family.