"I shall not lament
the human, not yet."
~ Dorianne Laux
Poor little girl with the golden heart who winds
up working for the rich and heartless, in a house
with a staircase wide enough for egos dressed
in silks and suits: they treat her like she's lower
than a maid. Beggar or slut, tramp who's wriggled
her way somehow into their world. Other fledglings
find their way into her care—the senile grandmother,
the child who refuses to speak or eat. In the first
episode she finds a way to gain their trust.
In the next, they're utterly changed, almost
as radiant as their former selves. Then the music
changes, doors bang open, the mistress's hand
lands on her cheek. We keep watching, though we
know it's all perfectly orchestrated: predictable script,
the makeup of both villainess and heroine still perfect
after marathon fighting and weeping. They've got
the tropes and the melodrama. We want to see love
win, see karma find those who wanted to ruin everything
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
