“She Never Asked”


“She Never Asked”

She never asked for recognition, nothing was required;
The prognosis, primal tones; a minor key with sparing counterpoint, days
That pass and cannot last from whom no one longs to hear. Routine’s dismay
Combine her airs in all affairs that bear false witness and suffocate
in patterned crosswords of vested interests wired
To disconnect before the mortal stare of casuistry
Armed with kamikaze comments festooned in cacophonies
of planned obsolescence  to haunt, possibly to troll the bookshelves in brisk
Research for some fine day in miniature with nothing to pay and little risk.
Yes! She holds an avalanche in her frown.
A reticent blessing, ablutions in a finger bowl, veils askew to block review
Of motives. Comes a late night message, the oracle to set the straight askew:
Reset all clocks and watches,weed the shibboleths of proper nouns
–The while that foot placed squarely in the door! These cosmic clowns,
These plenipotentiary passions cast a longer shadow on the floor
than suns are wont to do across the planet; she’s always late
And last to hear the call.
Her lessers stroll; she tends to sprint;
Behind her follow patchwork sophistries culled from gatherings of the lint.

 …painting by Pavel Guzenko…


2 responses to ““She Never Asked”

  1. she sounds formidable.. . ( I always ‘hear’ that word in my mind as the french pronunciation … gives it more … Ooomph!! ) xx

    • Yes, well, she’s got “Ooomph!!” in that French way, all right, spectacular, apparently “to die for” but as is the case with the French anything, ephemeral to the point of being lethal to the soul. What can be said of any siren?…FormiDAble, indeed!

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