The Universe Is Always Listening
'What is it?' she said,
'That invisible thing
marked with patience?
I should have it, not you.
I’m the pretty one.
All the daddies
and uncles and cousins
like me because I smile
and I’m pretty. Pretty
and sweet. You
just stay in the corner.
It’s not fair. It’s all
supposed to come to me.'
I didn’t answer.
How could I?
I didn’t know.
Not for a long time.
And anyway I wanted
the approval bestowed
and the pretty face
that earned it.
(I was very young.
We both were.)
The pretty manners too.
But I didn’t know how
to simper.
‘Patience wouldn’t
please you anyway,’
I didn’t know to say.
Well it was long ago.
She’s dead now.
She did find ways
to get much
that she wanted.
After the face
grew ordinary
she still had
wiles and charm.
And calculation.
My invisible support,
I understand now,
can be discerned
in its effects ...
if you’re looking.
There is nothing
I have to do. That’s
what bugged her,
my jealous cousin.
I do sometimes ask,
but I don’t have to.
(I sometimes
forget that.)
After my last cat died
I knew I must have
no more. It’s not fear
of further heartbreaks,
but my old body
no longer fit to do
the work of taking care.
‘I hope I don’t
get mice now,’ I thought.
In time a python arrived.
I'm remembering a friend
once, who said, 'The Gods
must love you, darling!'
The actual dialogue in the first verse is fictional. That's the only thing that is.
It seems I should explain, for people not familiar with them, that pythons (not unusual in this part of Australia) are good at keeping the mice down; hence, if one doesn't have a cat....
The prompt was about temporary or hidden supports. I went with hidden; definitely not temporary!
Written for Weekly Scribblings #38: A Helping String at Poets and Storytellers United.