No, Christina Rossetti (1830 -1894), I cannot agree

that life so dark and heavy every day must be.

It cannot be so —

No! No!  and No!

If I thought your grim words were true,

deeply cutting, killing, through and through,

I would force my last breath to loudly employ

my lungs to expunge every ounce of pure joy

into a shrill, startling scream to God’s highest Heaven

for angels to  gather the honey, flour, and leaven…

all sweetness, all goodness, everything light,

refashioning the world  to  wondrous and bright;

replacing all calloused, scarred, torn hearts

with sweet sugared, tasty, delicate tarts,

and insisting each person consume their fair share,

’til only loud laughter and love dwell there.


(after a lunch of Turkey Tetrazzini and fifteen minutes reading Christina Rosetti’s (1830 -1894) Goblin Market and Other Poems…I tire of misery and mouldering death on these bright days of Fall, 2016)






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