Ode to the Reality Show Contestant

Her humble slouch betrays

her nymph-like beauty and her skill.

I take silent pride

 

in recognizing her

meticulous fingers,

and daydream

 

of how heavenly the word

saffron

sounds when produced by

 

her lips. I don't need

the extra music, I don't need

the well-cut shots to unstring

 

my heart (ungovernable

impulsive creature).

What a pleasure,

 

the happy accident

of knowing her smile,

her spacey gaze.

 

What a pleasure,

which could have remained

across the ocean, unbeknownst

 

to me. Past the lingering worry

that perhaps this is another sign

of my precariously increasing madness,

 

there is a sense

of contentment, of thankfulness, of

wonder in such

 

an uncanny joy, brought to me

on the back of a British

reality show.

 

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/443afp/wine_and_lust/cznwy8d

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/443wbu/heck/cznwhi8