Cabinet Of Wonders {for Karen Villegas} Poem by Shane Markie

Hefting Mrs. O out of bed required
a winch and a cradle of straps
and a hard ear: she cried, at least
more often than wailing, wordless,
the occasional bark.

No wonder, both hips were shattered,
her spine nearly a question mark.
So, her soft sobs were welcome
Tuesday morning, before bath,
and her sudden shrieks ignored,
at first, until we saw her fist
jabbing toward the floor: a small,
pink, heart-shaped box had fallen
and lay beside the bedpan.

Jamilla opened it, and up sprung
a tiny ballerina, en pointe, pirouetting to Für Elise,
gears plinking slowly, slowly, the song her sister
practiced forever, in the front parlor,
the sun colored vase of lilies
atop the piano, hair in a shaggy bun.

We all listened as it slowed
to a crawl, one note, one more, then hung, unresolved, on the C. Mrs. O didn't have to cry; Jamilla turned the key before breathing, let it play, let it wind down again, then turned the key once more to watch the ballerina twirl.