The Woman At The Concert Who Twirled

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She arrived barefoot
Pulled by the
Magnet of music
Her shoes
Abandoned
Like glass slippers
Her toddler orbiting her
Celestial body
Like a baby astronaut
Around the hemisphere of her skirt
Which twirls
Like 
Gene Kelly’s umbrella
In Singing in the Rain
As she performs 
the spontaneous,
Arm swaying
wild-child
choreography
of motherhood
Leaving in her car
The depleted Happy Meal sack
The weaponized heart
The inheritance of disappointments
The provocation of bills
The asterisks 
The annotations
The affirmations
The endless excuses and
The resistance to indisputable facts
Which is why she is here
On leave from the Crusades
With its sanguinary battlefield 
of computers
And coworkers
And a marriage 
That has lost its romance
Like the keys that she can never find











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