THERE ONCE WAS AN OLD WOMAN

who expertly sharpened her kitchen knives
until the blue sparks flew like stars around her head.
She said: "I will slice the invasive sunlight
that dares to tread with the footfall of a dinosaur
through my dining room window or upon the transparent
cheesecloth of my kitchen table. I will serve that light
upon a blue plate of pansies with extra culinary dreams.
I will persuade water man who comes to my back door
with seductive whispers, so original, that he will be
unable to resist joining me in a casserole of hay."
There is quiet determination stored in that house
in the suburb of her heart; a natural blue falls
like a careless negligee around her feet.