the whiner

she whined like a gramophone –

perpetually winding down,

but never stopping, for long:

complaining and blaming,

pausing only, it seemed,

for nourishment, rest and air,

as, all around her held their

collective breath and sent up

a silent prayer that her days

of wretched luck and spectacularly

unfair treatment had, finally,

given way to the ordinary ebb and flow

of most everybody else’s fortunes and fates …

if only community "willing" could make it so

but no – alas, it was not to be and as the years

drifted passed, it became clear to those
whose ears she bent, repeatedly,

with her litany of woe – she was doomed,

to be endlessly misunderstood

and victimized all-the-days-of-her-life:

the gossamer threads of words

she wove continually unravelling

– like unfolding tabloid headlines –

to be entwined anew, catching the light

for a moment and then trailing off

to nothingness again and again so that,

she never owned a moment …

she was personally responsible for

photo:  Small Town Newspaper – office of the local newspaper in the charming town on Agassiz, BC – W. Bourke 

© 2015 Wendy Bourke