Whereas, my Bonnie lies over the ocean, & whereas,
my Bonnie lies over the sea,
& whereas stated earlier,
my Bonnie lies over the ocean, it is hereby decreed
my Bonnie be brought back to me.
If she be brought back to me
but express no desire to remain within my approximate vicinity,
she will be duly released
from any & all previously pledged attachments to my present & future self,
though all past memories will be permitted
to continue residing within the darker recesses of my brain.
Said brain will be ordered not to languish on the contradictory feelings
arising from her abandonment & rejection.
any residual pining emanating from my sentimental heart
will be determined
to be in strict violation of my general welfare & thus harshly sanctioned.
If, on the other hand,
Bonnie were to be brought back to me & in agreement
regarding our shared destiny,
immediate nuptials will be in order,
though due to our lengthy separation, supervised visitation
may be necessary
to prevent an overabundance of volatile emotions:
My Bonnie & me
will arrange said schedule in the matter most convenient to both of us.
If my Bonnie & me were to engage in any activity deemed unseemly
of our premarital positions,
the extended members of our families
will be duly consulted & elaborate the proper course of action.
Moreover, if my Bonnie & me were to be separated by an ocean or sea
or any other vast body of water, both of us will be entitled
to bring back the other or be brought back, whatever the case may be.
By Jonathan Greenhause
Jonathan Greenhause is a Pushcart Prize nominee, his poetry appearing or scheduled to appear in The Believer, Cream City Review, New Delta Review, The South Carolina Review, and Water-Stone Review, among others. His 1st chapbook, "Sebastian's Relativity", is being released in autumn 2011 through Chicago's Anobium Books.
Work for Monthly Verse is selected through our editorial process. New poems are selected from authors that submitted work for the last issue. Read more authors by subscribing to Fjords.