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Literature Text
Watching my husband filing bankruptcy
apparently didn’t meet my humiliation quota for the month –
now I must carry my cross through the common masses
who don’t give a damn about my family pedigree,
searching for a cheap dress which looks decent
and discovering that an outfit I seriously considered buying
is now being pondered over by a woman
wearing an oversized checkerboard patterned pink and red shirt,
(vaguely reminiscent of a hideous Valentines day table cloth):
A woman whose grandfather is not a French archduke
and has probably never had more than five hundred dollars at a time.
The rows of cheap, incandescent lights hanging overhead
are casting shadows perfectly now – so that I can’t see their faces
but I already know that they’re watching me and whispering,
exchanging rumors about my “fall from power and social status”
like some Greek tragedy mirrored in my own life–
some pity me and others laugh with glee at my misfortune.
All predictable responses, but I can’t keep the dark flush of embarrassment
From creeping across my cheekbones, betraying my calm superiority.
Clutching my name-brand leather purse in hopes of consolation
works in quite the opposite way—
reminding me as I that it’s empty inside.
apparently didn’t meet my humiliation quota for the month –
now I must carry my cross through the common masses
who don’t give a damn about my family pedigree,
searching for a cheap dress which looks decent
and discovering that an outfit I seriously considered buying
is now being pondered over by a woman
wearing an oversized checkerboard patterned pink and red shirt,
(vaguely reminiscent of a hideous Valentines day table cloth):
A woman whose grandfather is not a French archduke
and has probably never had more than five hundred dollars at a time.
The rows of cheap, incandescent lights hanging overhead
are casting shadows perfectly now – so that I can’t see their faces
but I already know that they’re watching me and whispering,
exchanging rumors about my “fall from power and social status”
like some Greek tragedy mirrored in my own life–
some pity me and others laugh with glee at my misfortune.
All predictable responses, but I can’t keep the dark flush of embarrassment
From creeping across my cheekbones, betraying my calm superiority.
Clutching my name-brand leather purse in hopes of consolation
works in quite the opposite way—
reminding me as I that it’s empty inside.
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"Wealth is the parent of luxury and indolence, and poverty of meanness and viciousness, and both of discontent."
-- Plato
-- Plato
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Comments1
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I found that really very touching. Maybe comming from a rather stiff upper lip backround made me appreciate the idea of being humiliated in such a way more. I could feel that very unique pain as I read. Like the expressive, without being pretentious, volcabulary aswell. Very good.