Miranda Dennis
RESIGNATION LETTER
Sleepiness has kept me dead to this,
arms thrust back
in memory of martyrs
and helicopters alike.
I have now pulled myself
into a small ball, readily
available to be crammed
into a pottery kiln, an automatic
that will shut itself off if faulty,
singing, "Daisy, daisy" and
crying to itself one last time.
I envy such finality
and efficiency. (You see,
I have learned a lot after all!)
I cannot even ball myself up
right, not quite fetal enough
for sympathy or loathing.
It's not tight or circular,
the etching of pi
lost long ago on the curve of my knees.
They cannot be pulled any higher
to my chin. The bones refuse
to give like cartilage
into some sort of human pie.
My body does somersaults
and airborne flapping
when you say, "Jump."
When you say, "Multitask,"
I also whistle while I work.
And when you say, "Improve
your attitude," I do this with
a smile until I am nothing
more than a holy vessel,
ready to be canonized,
or glazed and burned
at the stake.
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Location:
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Montgomery, Alabama
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Email:
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mirandadennis@hotmail.com
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Publications:
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Stirring, Published in Graphophobia Literary Magazine
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