Posts Tagged ‘fussiness’




I don’t remember inviting her along today,

that Prickly Rose, but everywhere I go,

she goes. I watch her pout around the kitchen

as she makes breakfast, her prickers falling

into the cereal, spines in the eggs. And she bristles

her way into the bedroom closet to

put on her clothes, daring to wear the same

outfit as I. She fusses her way to the car,

leaves a trail of bleary discontent,

then drives off in a huff, harrumphing

at beauty, at bliss. All morning, I watch her

from a distance, as far away as I can.

I tell her, “You know, you can choose

at any time to lose those thorns.”

She glares at me, like, “whatever,”

and goes back to her muttering.

“I see,” I say, giving her space.

She smells as if she burnt her eggs.

So I tease her, and make up new lyrics to.

“Miss Prickle regrets

she’s unable to smile today, Madam.”

and “The gripes are high but I’m holding on.”

I marvel at her insistence on holding

on to aggravation, frustration, annoyance,

stress. I mean, look at her now,

snarling there in the seat I’m in,

intent on her own misery. Oh Prickly Rose.

I want to hold her, but she will not

be held. So I watch her, let myself

get curious. Smile as she chooses to frown.

She’ll come around eventually, I tell myself.

Until then, I wonder at how she manages

to hold that scowl on her forehead

so furrowed, so deep, how she glowers

so impressively long.


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I would hate
for it to be
tonight, tonight
when I am fussy
and obstinate, I would hate
for it to be the end
of the world
tonight. Thus far
the suggestion
of a potentially imminent
massive earthquake
or crashing meteor
or flood due to the
last scrap of
the ice cap melting
is not sufficient
to make me smile
just for the sake
of ending it nice.
I’m not saying
I didn’t notice
the sunset
tonight, all
pink and deep
purple and
leaking spectral light.
I’m just saying
I’m fussy. And
the world will
end. And thorny
as I am, I am hoping
it isn’t tonight.

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