by Barbara LaMorticella
All life delights in fancy:
the iridescent throat of a hummingbird
the jellyfish’s luminescent and trailing fringe
the alder catkins’ extravagant cascade.
The bower bird who decorates his nest with goat turds
gets nowhere. The female bird moves into the bowers
lined with flowers.
I usually dress plain as a potato,
raggedy as a priest whose church has
fallen on hard times. But on days when I write
I bring out the sparkle and shine:
In my ears I like something dangly,
or bright as light shining on water,
something that says
enter, enter, enter