She was born healthy and bright to the right
family (no trauma, no drama) in a neighborhood healthy
and bright, probably white (no trauma, no drama). Good

clothes, good looks, good music and books, fell in love,
not too soon, lovely wedding, perfect groom, pleasant
little honeymoon. Children came, healthy and bright,

only as often as the parents could afford. They played
together, adored their mother and each other, grew up
without trauma, married without drama to good people

raised right, a delight to their in-laws. And so it proceeded
at just the right pace, well and right, until all that remained
was retirement in a sunny place not too far from the dear

grandchildren, so sweet and polite, healthy and bright,
a spot of golf, a cruise or two, and then she was through,
dying pleasantly in her sleep. And then

she dragged her milky-weak underformed spirit-limbs
into the presence of her god and demanded
her money back.                                        “Hell,
no!” King Lucifer replied. “You got everything right,
just what you voted for. Sit. Stay. Fetch. Good girl.”

 

Darlene Young

 

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