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)