My truth

Sits quietly in the corner,

Painted hands clasped on her lap certain of who

            she is,

As the party swirls around her.

She is approached at times,

First by loudmouthed truth

With his confident smile, who asks

You wanna dance Babe? I tell you,

I'm a load of fun;

Girls like to dance with me...

When she looks into his eyes he is instantly

            uncomfortable,

Alrighty, he says & his eyes flick to the

ash blonde on the other side of the room,

It's your loss ice Babe, forget it.

next comes the old smoothy, relative truth,

With spectacles wedged firmly across his nose.

Would you care to dance? He bows.

Any move you care to name,

The foxtrot & the twist to the rave & the wave,

All as good as one another. How would you like

Being lifted above a crowd of muscular sexy truths

Into the air, all nattering & calling your name,

You adorable truth, so plain,

So cold, so elegant, so intelligent?

Not tonight,

Her whisper is dead and flat,

When Mr. Right comes along

 I'll be a sliver of glass gleaming

Against the wall.

He will know I am here too late when

I slice him open & drink from his beating heart

The sweet warm juice of life.

(Published in Blow Out, Island Press, 2008)