Mary Meriam

The Countess of Flatbroke

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

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.

(This brace of sonnets previously published in The Countess of Flatbroke)

Companion Piece

How To Be A Flatbroke Poet And Get A Chapbook

~ or ~

My Year Of Miracles (May They Never End)

1. Want a chapbook. Dream about a chapbook.

2. Struggle to assemble a collection of your poems.

3. Repeat step 2 once a year for several years.

4. Join an online poetry workshop and realize your poems need a lot of work.

5. Fall in love with a stranger’s poems in the workshop and say so.

6. Publish your poems in journals and feel closer to having a collection of viable poems.

7. Play with Google and send your poems to writers you admire, asking for advice on how to get a chapbook.

8. Get a response from a famous writer offering to write an afterword for your chapbook once you find a publisher.

9. Feel extraordinarily motivated!

10. Write a book proposal and submit it to publishers.

11. Forget about contests because you’re flatbroke.

12. Get a response from another famous writer advising you to self-publish.

13. Forget about self-publishing because you’re flatbroke.

14. Feel dizzy from sudden contact with beloved famous writers.

15. Try to stay grounded.

16. Remember the stranger at the workshop whose poems you loved and said so? He offers to publish your chapbook (Nemo!).

17. Nemo and Quincy help you select a group of poems. You realize there is no way you could have made these selections yourself.

18. But there are more poems to write! Feel incredibly inspired by the close editing Nemo gives.

19. Try not to swamp your friends with millions of files of possibilities of collections of poems.

20. Realize again how far you have to go to write, edit, collect, and order your chapbook.

21. Miraculously discover that another new friend from the workshop wrote her dissertation on the order of poems in books, and feel awestruck when she sends you the chapter that you need to help you find the right order for your poems.

22. Try not to drive Quincy and Nemo crazy with your obsessive attention to which way the apostrophe points in ’neath, and other details.

23. When Nemo designs a gorgeous chapbook cover, try not to completely break down from joy and gratitude.

24. Ditto when you read Lillian Faderman’s afterword.

25. Hold your chapbook in your hands and dream about reciprocating all the kindness and support given to you by your new friends.

Yours truly,

The Countess of Flatbroke