by Lisa Low
To Helen, My Admin
It’s nothing, you say, slipping in red
slippers without sound from my room. We
both know it’s everything. You solve
problems easily, the Gordian knots
of the world. Above the blazing towers
where I confusedly stand; above
the pitchforks where I hang; above the screams
and smoking ruins and dusty groaning
depths and raging fires I’ve created below,
you sweep in to save me suddenly, a mere
swish of your magical dress enough to
restore me to upright position. Henceforth,
my life, that tempest-driven wrecker ball
of misplaced energies, swings like a pendulum
regularly. Like a watch fob on a Prince Albert chain, easily.
Lisa Low’s essays, book reviews, and interviews have appeared in The Massachusetts Review, The Boston Review, The Tupelo Quarterly, and The Adroit Journal. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in many literary journals, including Pleiades, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Louisiana Literature, Pennsylvania English, Phoebe, American Journal of Poetry, and Delmarva Review.