My Imagination Would Save Me
If you locked me into a cage or a cell
I would dream I was a monarch butterfly
making zigzag patterns in the sky
flirting and flirting with marigolds orange and yellow
their pungent fragrance, overwhelmingly familiar
You could slide in gruel for my supper
It could be sloppy, soggy, lumpy, and gray-ugly
I would pretend it was pot roast, carrots and potatoes
Tasting Heinz 57 on it, delighting in this meal
You might be irritated at this point
You can try to break me
but my imagination will rise to the depths of joy
giving me an alternative universe
nurturing and loving me, showing me grace
in my most desperate situation
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