Martin H. Levinson - One Poem

Civilization and its Discontents

I bite my lips, pinch my thighs,
pray I don’t pound you into the
ground or chuck myself off
the twenty-second floor terrace

we are standing on as your sip
your Singapore Sling, munch on a
pretzel, pontificate over climate change,
feminism, the lack of civility in American

society and your aching feet that I’d like to
stomp on each time you say “what is this
world coming to,” “politicians are liars and
crooks,” “bring back the good old days” as if

I don’t know I want to disappear and become
a Trappist monk obeying a vow of silence
with my fellow monks who also don’t talk
but love each other because how can you

not revere someone who doesn’t bore you
to death or make you want to kill them
with their washed-out platitudes and
monochromatic conversation that

dyes Technicolor discussions drab
and weary gray.



Martin H. Levinson is a member of the Authors Guild, National Book Critics Circle, and the book review editor for ETC: A Review of General Semantics. He has published 8 books and numerous articles. His poems have appeared in The Potomac Review, Rattle, BRICKRhetoric, Occupoetry, Specter Magazine, First Literary Review East, Penumbra,  Literary Mama, Third Wednesday, Freshet, Musings, Message in a Bottle, Mindset Poetry, and other publications. He holds a PhD from NYU and lives in Forest Hills, New York.