Poem: Misterioso – 11/01/20

 that’s how the piece is marked, 
 to be performed with a mood of 
 mystery and secrecy, 
 perhaps it speaks of a quiet enigma.
 Through these bars and notes I will troupe,
 exploring the shaded corners,
 casting aside the yawning awnings of protection 
 from the vividness of truth,
 there are certain things here which need identifying,
 items that cannot be denied. 
 A trinket here, a seashell, a fuchsia handbag there,
 what do these accumulated items mean?
 The glass trinket falls, 
 shatters or cracks, 
 whichever fits,
 either way, it’s done for. 
 The seashell houses a little mollusc, 
 a curled life that doesn’t wish to budge,
 she is protected, you see, 
 safe from all things,
 unless something or someone nasty comes crawling in to see. 
 What’s in your bag? a petulant child will call. 
 Can I see inside? 
 No, no, no. 
 Inside are my secrets, my misterioso relics,
 perhaps even something living, 
 a best friend of sorts —
 we only deal with interpretation.   
 I can unravel the mysteries because I have the keys,
 each I have inserted into multiple locks that makes the
 circumstances and facts easier to view, 
 now a gaping treasure-trove of 
 what-say-you, and how-do-you-do?
 Shyness aside, I am here for you 
 with colloquial truth.  
 © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
 All images signed “LMH” 
 are copyrighted 2019-2020 by Lauren M. Hancock 
 and all rights reserved. 

 Image by ThuyHaBich from Pixabay

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