Enough

by Joanne Rosenthal


I’m home alone
baking blueberry muffins
and blasting Billy Joel
when happiness sneaks
up behind me like a kidnapper
and steals me away from myself.
I kick and scream
and cling for safety
to my scratchy burlap rope,
my sadness,
until my palms burn and slip
and finally lose their grip.
I am free-falling now,
whooshing past rainbows
and peace signs and highlighter-
yellow smiley faces
until I land with a plunk
in the world of the happy,
where tiny pleasures
poke out their noses
like baby bunnies
from every kitchen corner.
My muffin tops puff up
in the oven like skydivers’
parachutes; my fingers scrape
gloppy goo off the mixing bowl,
and these two things
are enough for me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s