Pleasure Can Be Worn
©April 12th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Outside, the sun is proud and strident.
The air hammers blacksmith-blows
Onto exposed skin. A heavy weight
Settles in the cavity in my chest.
Birds celebrate, loud and defiant
Against a too-early summer; why not I?
Daffodil yellow is my scarf; cheerfulness can be worn.
Sleep is a melody, but my voice cracks like glass
Every day, a gathering of strength
Slow and steady, a fight against lethargy
One succeeds from habit; one smiles, it’s real.
But too much reality radiates jagged lines
From a broken point, and through the break,
Recycled sunshine pours down, awakening
Daffodils in a supermarket; I gaze at them.
Daffodil yellow is my scarf; cheerfulness can be worn.
Your scarf and you belong with these daffodils,
She says to me, her silvery hair and cheerfulness
Making the air ripple, while I gaze at pots of flowers.
The weight, now with attached balloons, floats sunwards.
Too much reality, too many jagged lines, melt
Into bright light, birdsong, simple pleasure in colour.
Daffodil yellow is my scarf; cheerfulness can be worn.
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This is in response to the prompt for Day 11 of NaPoWriMo 2017.
