Parapluie short poem

Photo by Lisa Widerberg

Her favorite French word despite
She hated the devices themselves

Gutless spiders, she’d say, all legs
Appetites for unwary heads, lop them off.

As a compromise she didn’t own any hats
Just a few holdover rain bonnets

A pair of turquoise Rayban cat’s eye sunglasses
That, ghostlike, went in and out of fashion

Style of no style – those things to utilize,
Those to be feared with candid admission –

Nail scissors only, never clippers or nippers,
Carefully paring her crescent moons into a saucer,

Cigarettes until they almost killed her and always
Coffee not too dark, propped with cream and sugar

She knew it was time to go when those vices
Which were pleasures turned into ordeals

Distractions instead of inspirations to get out of bed

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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@grawlix67, surely, a sort of dissertation on this device is not at all amiss. There is even a song telling of how sharing in this device “led to a vow” . . . and many more other compositions you could find about this parasol or umbrella. Something in the way you detailed the goings-on in the life of the subject suggests an intimacy of sorts. Or the subject could even be you, writing in the third person. No matter which it may be, the rendering is well done and worth reading.