To The Passenger In Seat C
I wonder why you’re so inclined
with each explosive exhalation,
to bless my soul each time I sneeze;
renounce this social obligation.
The origin of your response
is wrapped in lore of evil spirit;
resist the urge—but if you must—
consider words of greater merit.
In your attempt to wish me well
when plague and demon beg evicting,
in lieu of Proost, Salud, God Bless,
I might prefer You’re so good looking.
About the Author
dl mattila, a resident of Virginia, holds the Master of Arts in Writing from Johns Hopkins University. Her poetry has been published in Blast Furnace, Foothill: a journal of poetry, Lowestoft Chronicle, and Shot Glass Journal, among others. Her work also appears on the Maier Museum of Art Ekphrastic Poetry webpage and at the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.