Her worn sandals
almost started a friction fire
on the dry grass
as she skittered up to me.
Hair all medusa-like
and face flushed like a peach,
she screamed of devils and sin
and pointed her bony talons
right at me.
Mothers with pushchairs
on black tarmac playgrounds,
and school-kids smoking
behind the old oak trees,
looked on in amusement.
For a brief moment
in the park that day
all of their problems
evaporated in the sun
as this pantomime
unfolded before them.
I’ll admit, it took me a minute
to find the funny side
of this warbling women
reciting her righteous litany
naming me the King of Hell.
And when finally I imagined
my pitchfork and tail
and a laugh broke loose
it only caused her
to double her efforts.
Her oversized head
bobbed around so much
I thought the snakes on her head
were going to climb down
in protest
and slither away.
Her fervour now spent
she trudged off
less than a shadow,
but still muttering
the good fight,
and I could hear
the silent applause
all around me.
Now I don’t condone crazy,
but I have to confess –
I will always be grateful
to that senile loon
for taking the time
to brighten my afternoon.
© 2015, Gavin Zanker.
Keyboard photo by Nana B Agyei licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic.