Listen to the poem below.
She is the empress of exaggeration,
hyperbole her summer home.
She uses the largest knives to
cut the smallest items:
mincing, dicing, never explaining
something we’ve come to expect.
Her bold stories convey
strife, loves, loss, global dangers,
cautionary tales that trade on common fears
so that none of us mere mortals
has to experience all she has gone through,
year after year, side trips,
hard knocks and harder ones yet.
As the pregnant orange sun crawls
over her shoulder, you might spot
the wrinkles hidden behind the cosmetics,
the secret of the tired magician’s tricks,
the toll of those many raw years.
Best not to mention it;
she harbors lifelong grudges.
Instead, drink it in and smile,
while she laughs at some farfetched anecdote
she’s been telling someone, anyone,
decade after decade.
Gary Glauber is a poet, fiction writer, and teacher. His first collection, Small Consolations (Aldrich Press) is available from Amazon.com. A chapbook, Memory Marries Desire, is available for pre-ordering from Finishing Line Press. It will be published in March.