[pathopoetry] because you once called me fairy

call me dishrag.
some years ago, never mind how long precisely,
I was no scouring brush, I had my own lustre
now I'm a tarnished candelabra
it must disturb you, this reverse cinderella -
bride princess in crinoline becomes blue frog
your once snow white who was fresh as full cream
now keeping company with Frumpy, Dumpy and Grunge
but this scullery maid can still clean up nice
(and often by the stroke of midnight)
and the fairy dust has not worn off:
I am mother of Adorable, wife of Can Be Charming
daughter to a Dear - the wide eyed fawn
lock-jointed in the Medusa stare of highbeams
(quit it Bambi, this ain't no Yellow Brick Road)
wandering under the briar bushes
as the enchanted forest awaits protective legislation
biding my time in the tallest tower
as I comb out the frizz from my rope of opportunity;
so look kindly on your cinder sweeper
who still fits into that fragile slipper
now that I'm wound on the spindle of your finger
I count on you to break my lethargic stupor
we'll get out of the woods together
inshaAllah
because you once called me fairy
because that's a chapter we both remember
let's try to keep the ending, however unoriginal -
needing no spell, but prudence and prayer:
sending for regular service and maintenance
our happily, lest it detach from ever after.

[pathopoetry] Another meeting

Another meeting, throw a brick in my brimful of grievances
drenched in bureaucracy, displace my suggestions
my tries at measured speaking for reasons earnest
hosed down by patronizing jets of correction
from a self-assured leader sitting suave as drywall
who claims flexibility, pivots on brass fasteners -
condescension oozing from cracks in the disposition - ?
rankled, I struggle to exhale repentance;
hearing resentment echoed in my own responding tone,
branded contentious by mute egg-carton spectators,
I resign myself to a pounding-head silence
and the hissing in my ears, once again deflated;
vaporize me, let me dissipate in air
travel to the space of your conscious and your comfort
while words pour thick and glistening as pancake batter
and each passing minute cranks the jack of stalled egos -
I have slipped off dripping, like fat from the bone
waiting to be permitted to sink under the floorboards.