A Spinster's Cry

                      I would rather have a ghost here
                       Singing a ghostly song for me.
                     At least, I will have his company.
                 Dressed in these cursed spinster's silks,
                        I look like a wooden saint.

               They say I may be better off to become a nun,
                    At least I can be the maid of Jesus.
                Better than making faces with my old doggie,
                 My singing parrot and my crossed-eyed cat.

                  They say that I look like a cracked vase
                     Without being paired with another.
                   I am like a soul drifting at midnight
                         Counting the waning moon.
                             And if I die old,
                              No one will cry
                      Sincere cries of truthful sorrow
                               At my funeral

                       But I will remain a spinster,
                     Even if I hope it would not be so.
                        I hardly have anything left
                             Besides a puzzle,
                         A sneer and a do-not-care.

                                   Blank

                             Poverty is a blank
                          In the empty bag of rice
                             Freedom is a blank
                        In the whisper of "good-bye"
                             Victory is a blank
                         In tomorrow's fake trophy;
                              Despair is blank
                      At the bottom of a friend's cup
                            Betrayal is a blank
                         On the lover's photograph;
                             Disgust is a blank
                        In the long-awaited letter,
                              Time is a blank
                          A sward of ominous flies
                     Settling on the hospital ceiling;
                             History is a blank
                               A running log
                    Where only the dead are recognized.

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