My Sea Legs

From then on, Zorba called me "Princess of Quite-a-Lot."
She said my body became a praise-shack. From the catalogue,
a new bed. From the neighbor's bed, a lace wig. She stenciled
the ripe pets herself. She upholstered my vanity table in shag.

She took aside her little nephew and for fun they mapped a city.
In the pocket, she had charcoals, pastels, crayons, ochres. Rot.
He drew a drawbridge, she drew a gangplank. He an awning,
she an armory. In the city hall, a buck hung. Black lung.
Gallows. They drew a dock for me, a to and fro for bad days,
and wrought a trip-trap iron caisson with the top down.

Copyright © 2007 Danielle Pafunda All rights reserved
from My Zorba
Bloof Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission