In Regard to Madame Déficit
Mei Lin
Beignet curls, stacked profiterole gold did please one ever so.
Who cares how the raspberries stain
such brilliant red ? Pearled tears pair well
with silk chiffon and her layers,
puff pastry—so decadent—fold delicate. Watch
her step, grace threaded meringue and adorns.
Eyes bright like sparklers look down upon,
a dainty fly on creamy white,
at curdled blood on blooming skin,
and then right through.
She says not to feast, a cake is somewhere
glazed in those lines, or maybe
it isn’t, claiming virtue through barley.
Her Mother lays silent against other repents,
speaks loud, diamond sheen but wavers still:
Stand down !
This would not differ with anyone else.
It was requisite for me to conform
to His will. Don’t you see how
I ache too ?
Something can be gleaned in the space after each
period but it’s beaten before proofed.
Many would drool at gilded halls, only these remain,
so shun context and admire;
displace beauty, dry pains that mirror hers.
Fewer say the value is nought. They ask
what means conditional love when
the rest can only watch. Weeps
at their tragedy, sips Antilles sugar
how her stride stalls then quickens with each grain.
Some don’t like three-feet feathered hair,
the way it bobs as she speaks fate into law. Yet
water-stained, smudged perfectly
her smile is slight and poised, framed golden
forevermore.
This poem is a pastiche of Armand Ruffo’s “Poem for Duncan Campbell-Scott.”
Mei Lin is a senior at Mulgrave School, though she originally hails from Beijing, China. She has always considered herself a creative, whether it be acrylic painting, poetry, or playwriting. As the token ‘editor friend,’ she thrives on advising, translating, or adapting works. If given the opportunity, she can lecture for hours on end about Les Misérables or French Revolutionary history, interspersed with pictures of her cat, Cosette.