Pen and Dress To Lend
Here…the pen
there the paper
whiter than snow
yesterday laid upon the sill of my laughter
overturning my frown
like a table in the house of God and goodness
Crying JOY!
till ..."Be not alive with joy!" whispers ....find solace in the crime of wishful sadness….because joy will only...don't you see ...
it flows around you in swirls like a chiffon dress
taken from the closet of the owner of the house you clean
you draped it across your bent shoulders and become
Cinderella…transformed in twinkles and sparkling fairy dust
born anew….in transcendence
Ethereal waves flow about you as you swirl the room
A mystical band strikes up lovely lordly notes
and a car door slams shuts
the house of cards falls from your fingertips to the marble tiles…
which do not
somehow turn into the safe congoleum
of your own modest kitchen
You dash and smash the dress back into the closet
crushed
reality is not like the movies
paper is sullied by the ink
and your smile ...by guilt
You take up your magic wand
return to scrubbing the toilet bowl
bashful and again bowed before the
reflection in the gold knobbed vanity
but still the little wondrous voice tinkle inside is
unearthly in its angelic rebuttal
Joy...Joy...Joy
Copyright © Ingrid Showalter Swift | Year Posted 2016
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