Poetry: I, the Madwoman by Fabrice Poussin

I, the Madwoman

 

You see me in the greasy aisle

Avoiding contact with the living.

 

You hear me on the avenue

Escaping the giant at rush hour.

 

I speak inanities with a grin

Dressed in my Sunday best.

 

You may cringe when I laugh

In the midst of disconnected syllables.

 

Of course you laugh at my pirouette

As I dance in the crowded square.

 

You call me crazy at midday

For my lonesome dialogue.

 

Little do you know that it is a joke

I play on you as I truly live.

Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. His work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review and the San Pedro River Review in addition to other art and literary magazines in the United States and abroad.