<$BlogRSDUrl$>

••• Tuesday, November 25, 2003

In the cellar,
Dark and murky,
She finds a pan
To fit a turkey.

A partitioned tray
Of porcelain lace,
Help olive greens
Stay in their place.

A broken bowl
Of mama's China,
Puts tear in eye
And sand in 'gina.

She used to love
This hostess chit.
Now all she wants:
Drink and knit.

Too late now.
Invites extended.
She prays for strength,
Until it's ended.

Anxiety bubbles
From darker places.
She sniffs a whiff
Of unknown basis.

Then stops the snivel.
She has a plan!
She calls her boy.
She calls her man.

Three fine heads
All tightly huddled.
(Two heads worry
That third is muddled).

Diagrams drawn.
Assignments made.
An offense play,
To make the grade.

The Empress wept.
The Warriors cheered.
With stealth-like ease
Their prey they neared.

In the parking lot,
No rules were followed.
The fear, it rose.
The fear, they swallowed.

The Hue and Cry
Gave all a start.
"Let's Grocery Shop,
Without a Cart!"





Comments: Post a Comment