..
She makes dangerous errands
of words and worry,
scurries along an invisible
water’s edge, keeper of her own
contradictory, lying heart.
She starts with flattery
and a little blue tassel,
disobeys the laws of gravity,
the speed limit, the in
-promptitude of action activated
by virtue of her own sharp
frock.
She rocks her
-self to sleep with a barely
sufficient amount of hum
-ming and hope.
Whisper her
a magic line,
a magic marker
in just the right hue,
a too-fast jealous anger
with which to praise
………….and pray.
She’s been waiting
all these long years
for one thing. Perhaps
if she puddles herself
in just the right amount
………….of quiet,
it will arrive
……………….today.
..
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Very nice…loved it.
“puddles herself / in just the right amount / of quiet” – I love this use of the word puddle. The first stanza is great.
I gather that this is about someone who has let her worries rule her life and is reacting perhaps too much to some worry in order to defeat it. But is realizing that such reactions get you nowhere.
Love this:
“promptitude of action activated
by virtue of her own sharp (intellect)”
Also the rewrapping that creates “She rocks her frock.”
“She rocks herself to sleep with a barely.”
“She’s been waiting … for one thing: Perhaps.”
And now I see “if she poodles herself.” 🙂
Mini-poem: “and pray of quiet today”