Wide brims of light blind a corpulent
matron. She has only ever seen receding
snatches of the cyclical punishment–needy
but resentful–attached to her coattails. She
dreams–often–floating freely through a
sea of checkered lanterns to discover a
new (and better) dwelling.
Contracts are finite.
Attachments, not yet severed.
It is, perhaps, the suffering children clinging
to her hem, who make the brightness so
unbearable.