Tonight she eats with flexing, twitching hands
upon the table. Vulgar girl, she rhymes
some doggerel at them. Her mouth and hands
are locked in gestures mocking them with rhymes.
They chuckle. She stands up and lifts her hands
to call for quiet; announces without rhymes
that she is tired, and for their work of hands
this evening she gives thanks. Politest rhymes
of gesture spill out as they clap their hands
at her, refrain from cheerful vulgar rhymes.
She trundles off to bed, clenches her hands.
Each finger curled down, the hands are rhymes.
But as she leaves, they're staring at her feet,
Her bare, mercurially soft and springing feet.
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Comments
--
Let me be a grain of sand in Heaven's eye
And I shall taste eternal joy.
Though I think that you shouldn't use "vulgar" a second time; I love that word, but unfortunately you're taking away from the well-placed condescension of the first time you use it.
--
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon
I've been thinking I should check Strindberg out too!! principally because he's a large influence on Ingmar Bergman.
--
Let me be a grain of sand in Heaven's eye
And I shall taste eternal joy.
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