Praise to the Window Blinds
The Lady of the afternoon shades remains
caustically unembarrassed and better on intemperate days,
blinded in summer in winter in spring
she listens to her heart shivering
pop goes the eschatological cherry
bath bubbles rising in the froth
the sun is a succulent Dairy Queen malt
The Lady of the afternoon shade preserves
her heart inside a locket and a chain
a big sun today its cream rises to the top
a set of keys a house light an Easter Cross
she cannot slit the blinds won’t in the meantime
the last sliver the big sun looking ahead
bad weather an Atomic Café malt tomorrow
The Beatles sang “It’s Getting Better All the Time”
She was less unrepentant then
her generation’s anthem flotsam and jetsam
the brightness is a peeping Tom shady lady
before her midday stab at reading The Lord of the Rings
Easter Sunday coming a futureless orange peel morn.