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She Comes Singing
By Thomas Piekarski



From notes of the thrummed blue guitar,  
From onyx and jade mansions in the sun,
Out of a sky luminous with platinum
                 She comes singing.

She bathes in the volcano’s steamy lava,
Shrieks when it blasts into the sky, and then
Swimming under expansive bay waters
                 She comes singing.

She shakes stardust from flowing hair
When she wakes among celestial spheres,
Then walking a Dalmatian down the aqueduct
                 She comes singing.

She navigates the internet’s optical cable,
Then flies swiftly between mountain bosoms.
As she approaches to help at an auto accident
                 She comes singing.

She’s quick to praise Nostradamus, the NFL,
Vanilla fudge, Rock n’ Roll, Betty Boop as well.
And when circus tigers lope into the tent
                 She comes singing.

She wades the liquid in a white cat’s eye,
Towels off and imagines some distant planet.
Her mind becomes fixed on Tango lessons as
                 She comes singing.

Strolling down the middle of Times Square
She undresses, and people collect to gawk.
She chuckles; then all the way to 5th Avenue
                 She comes singing.

She keeps watch on her savings account.
When it gets low she makes love to a satyr.
Thus with finances in cosmic alignment
                 She comes singing.

She languishes on the edge of a tidepool,  
Pulls out her heart and lays it down on sand.  
And just when Andes snow melt flows  
                 She comes singing.

As she salivates sea foam she’s willing to
Fix potholes and even glue Humpty Dumpty
Together. And while doing such things
                 She comes singing.

We all know those fiends who hang out
In filthy alleys and flatten people’s tires.
They stalk with impunity until the moment
                 She comes singing.

Folks do quibble, but she will engage in
An intimate chat with her team of angels:
As they decorate a lavish birthday cake
                 She comes singing.

Enjoying a visit to the soda fountain
She pooh-poohs those jaded politicians.
Dismissing their excuses and awful hype
                 She comes singing.

She pens slogans we all should uphold,
And champions little exposed causes like
Pulling a thorn from a kitten’s paw as
                 She comes singing.

Without hesitation she would feed a sick
elephant a plane wreck if it would help.
Some think her daft. But nonetheless
                 she comes singing.

Dignified ladies show off loads of gems,
Shake sexy hips and yap like baboons.
Not paying them the slightest attention
                 She comes singing.

Dancing in the vineyard a few days
From harvest, grapes succulent and sweet,
She blesses the crop; head held high
                 She comes singing.

A woman runs late in a traffic jam,  
Hair’s a mess, no makeup on, gas  
Tank low—life is just a shambles until  
                 She comes singing.

She floats in the grout between tiles
In Pompeii’s magnificent mosaics.
Then sliding down Mount Vesuvius
                 She comes singing.

She often visits the hospital, especially
Kind to those in intensive care. Patients
Gleeful because they expect as usual
                 She comes singing.

At times she checks in on the afterworld
And feeds six-headed Cerberus who barks
Maniacally. Always as she approaches him
                 She comes singing.

When earthquakes hit and mountains shake,
Peaches fall off the limb, ground opens up,
She’s calm. Like love that has found a home
                 She comes singing.

At times when the memory lapses
The mind has a tendency to shut down,
And that’s when out of necessity
                 She comes singing.

Quite often she can be sighted flying
Past multiple time zones in an instant.
Maybe faster than the speed of light
                 She comes singing.

Fish that swim upstream to spawn,
An infant ill with an unknown contagion,
The destitute junkie—all pray that soon
                 She comes singing.

So here she is, at all times assailing
Loneliness, fear, and lack of ambition.
Body ablaze, shadowless and riotous
                 She comes singing.
Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly and Pushcart Prize nominee. His poetry and interviews have appeared in literary journals internationally, including Nimrod, Florida English Journal, Cream City Review, Mandala Journal, Poetry Salzburg, Poetry Quarterly, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, and Boston Poetry Magazine. He has published a travel book, "Best Choices In Northern California," and his epic adventure, "Ballad of Billy the Kid," is available on Amazon in both Kindle and print versions.