Alice C. Linsley
Her tightly laced world chokes my breath.
Her flawless nest encloses my spirit.
Her dusted god, neatly on display
glares at me from the china cabinet.
Order is her mask,
her grand show,
with no ambiguities to distress
her tea time pleasantries.
She smiles at my reply
holding back a spearmint yawn
with her tissued hand.
Why am I here
sipping tea from the fragile lip
of this smooth porcelain cup?
I want to flee but pray for grace
to love my perfect neighbor.
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