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You always read about it:
the plumber with twelve children
who wins the Irish Sweepstakes.
From toilets to riches.
That story.

Or the nursemaid,
some luscious sweet from Denmark
who captures the oldest son's heart.
From diapers to Dior.
That story.

Or a milkman who serves the wealthy,
eggs, cream, butter, yogurt, milk,
the white truck like an ambulance
who goes into real estate
and makes a pile.
From homogenized to martinis at lunch.

Or the charwoman
who is on the bus when it cracks up
and collects enough from the insurance.
From mops to Bonwit Teller.
That story.

Once
the wife of a rich man was on her deathbed
and she said to her daughter Cinderella:
Be devout. Be good. Then I will smile
down from heaven in the seam of a cloud.
The man took another wife who had
two daughters, pretty enough
but with hearts like blackjacks.
Cinderella was their maid.
She slept on the sooty hearth each night
and walked around looking like Al Jolson.
Her father brought presents home from town,
jewels and gowns for the other women
but the twig of a tree for Cinderella.
She planted that twig on her mother's grave
and it grew to a tree where a white dove sat.
Whenever she wished for anything the dove
would drop it like an egg upon the ground.
The bird is important, my dears, so heed him.

Next came the ball, as you all know.
It was a marriage market.
The prince was looking for a wife.
All but Cinderella were preparing
and gussying up for the big event.
Cinderella begged to go too.
Her stepmother threw a dish of lentils
into the cinders and said: Pick them
up in an hour and you shall go.
The white dove brought all his friends;
all the warm wings of the fatherland came,
and picked up the lentils in a jiffy.
No, Cinderella, said the stepmother,
you have no clothes and cannot dance.
That's the way with stepmothers.

Cinderella went to the tree at the grave
and cried forth like a gospel singer:
Mama! Mama! My turtledove,
send me to the prince's ball!
The bird dropped down a golden dress
and delicate little gold slippers.
Rather a large package for a simple bird.
So she went. Which is no surprise.
Her stepmother and sisters didn't
recognize her without her cinder face
and the prince took her hand on the spot
and danced with no other the whole day.

As nightfall came she thought she'd better
get home. The prince walked her home
and she disappeared into the pigeon house
and although the prince took an axe and broke
it open she was gone. Back to her cinders.
These events repeated themselves for three days.
However on the third day the prince
covered the palace steps with cobbler's wax
and Cinderella's gold shoe stuck upon it.
Now he would find whom the shoe fit
and find his strange dancing girl for keeps.
He went to their house and the two sisters
were delighted because they had lovely feet.
The eldest went into a room to try the slipper on
but her big toe got in the way so she simply
sliced it off and put on the slipper.
The prince rode away with her until the white dove
told him to look at the blood pouring forth.
That is the way with amputations.
The don't just heal up like a wish.
The other sister cut off her heel
but the blood told as blood will.
The prince was getting tired.
He began to feel like a shoe salesman.
But he gave it one last try.
This time Cinderella fit into the shoe
like a love letter into its envelope.

At the wedding ceremony
the two sisters came to curry favor
and the white dove pecked their eyes out.
Two hollow spots were left
like soup spoons.

Cinderella and the prince
lived, they say, happily ever after,
like two dolls in a museum case
never bothered by diapers or dust,
never arguing over the timing of an egg,
never telling the same story twice,
never getting a middle-aged spread,
their darling smiles pasted on for eternity.
Regular Bobbsey Twins.
That story.
laura Dec 2018
I am from ***** Farmer candies
From old roller skates,
and falling apart jump ropes
From making up games,
rather than them being handed over.

I am from having to go to the neighbors house for the TV,
And from not getting one until 7th grade.
From the Milton Berle talk show,
that aired in the 50's.
From American Drama series,
such as Fireside Theatre starring Gene Raymond.
And from brunette Elizabeth Taylor,
and The Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

I am from “Waste not, want not,”
and “A penny saved is a penny earned.”
I am from Laura Lee Hope and the Bobbsey Twins.
From longing to be a nurse and becoming one.

In my heart, and 27 years in Milwaukee, Wisconsin,
those moments are kept,
Those memories may not seem very valuable,
but to me they are everything.
This is what came out of a long interview with my grandma
October seventeenth
nineteen hundred sixty one
and October seventeenth
two thousand twenty four
represents, signals,
and traces sixty three orbitz
completed round the sun.
by one cherished,
(despite lapse of calling,
emailing, or texting),
nevertheless loved,
and prized Earthling
named Shari Todd Harris-Dunning.

More'n half (almost two thirds)
regarding aforementioned existence
of said sibling, whose life linkedin
with spousal enrichment dream academy,
while hunkered temporarily down -
until she and her significant other
embark on another globe trotting stint
livingsocial, in Bend, Oregon,
otherwise known as GADSHILL Farm,
hence the hyphenated married name.

Though said endearing youngest sister
approximately forty five plus months my junior,
ofttimes during earlier mein kampf,
she displayed quasi
maternal (motherly) mien.

Even back during mine boyhood
dark shadows stirred
along the edge of night
(emanating from outer limits
of the twilight zone),
which spooked me to flinch
as did appearance
of the boogeyman induce affright
only exacerbated my delicate mental health
which emotionally punctuated precariousness
within psyche of mine

with disequilibrium ******-social blight
above named sibling
a bonafide unflagging
prairie home fine companion
who made killer powder milk biscuits
even as kids (living in Lake Wobegone)
as children, she more so analogous
to being my Bobbsey Twin, I cite
twilled me in the valley
of love and delight,
with her divine guidance,

an emotional refuge rescued
sought deliverance from anguish
loving succor proffered
peace upon mine body, mind, and soul,
she did immediately expedite
warming cockles of me heart
analogous to affecting, creating,
forging, jumpstarting, offering, and ushering
ideal paradise island temperature
if measured by degrees
balmy fahrenheit 451 (ha)

pointing, revealing, shining,
and training a guiding-light
unafraid to defend diminutive
docile, inordinately meek brother,
when threatened courtesy bullies
that significantly towered over me
below average stature in height
a measly little skinny,
long haired pencil neck geek,
yet zany as Corbin
(very private joke) Bill Thurman's cat,

(when within comfort of home) lad
naively oblivious rebukes
delivered courtesy our mother,
when her second born daughter
a fiercely academic and dynamic student
ever since she set foot in the classroom,
or summoning forth indomitable courage
particularly when she got diagnosed
score of years ago being in the throes
of thalassemia anemia minor,
nevertheless honorably accepted

fallout from infrequent -
at most a small number
of memorable bouts of mischievousness
such as after smoldering marshmallows
damaging the brand new toaster oven
sparked, and kindled outburst
from mommy dearest
figurative tinder, which squabble
escalated in intensity
sparking vehement feud to ignite
loosing volatile verbal exchange

triggering (hyperbole on the way)
The Emergency Alert System
to issue warning
lest clear and present danger
(at 324 Level Road)
recorded in history books
licking flames, overshadowing, rivaling,
and undermining revolution
analogous to spelunker donning jacklight
before trumpeting unexpected goldmine.

— The End —