She Says She Must Wear Goggles

October 7, 2011 § Leave a comment

She says she must wear goggles if she’s going to brew the antidote.

She fastens eye protectors over her paisley scarf,

And throws on her snowshoe apron.

From rows of rummage-sale vases and bulging freezer bags

She selects an urn of smoking scarlet liquid and an envelope of bitter ashes.

She deftly splashes them into her purse,

Which she kneads and jolts for several minutes.

She overturns her handbag and reveals a dingy, hairy clump of matter,

Which she forms into half-inch balls.

To mask their medicinal purpose,

She places each orb on a hard triangle of pita bread,

And plunks an anchovy atop each one.

She balances the dismal hors d’oeuvres on the parking meter

and escorts the apprehensive travelers to comfortable chairs,

smiles, and, for their own safety, bids them eat.


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