Judith Solano Mayer

I don’t know if entitlement is an intuitive lean in the right
direction, but
my guest is apoplectic
amid the meditative stillness surrounding the table:
gelded papayas in a mottled mix of light and shadows,
a splatter of mimosas,
an apple core with a honey bee
crawling over it, the blunt exhale
of my own startled breath as I consider
the arthropod click of his jaw
all the while mouthing, “This is Babylon.”

Other than being extremely introspective, Judith Solano Mayer does not have any degrees or certificates that would qualify her as a poet.