VSA arts of New Mexico — online gallery: Mary McGinnis

To My Third Boss

Open a little at a time —
you are not granite.
Rub soft colors around your prissy mouth,
listen to the flute outside our window;
when we frustrate you,
as we will most certainly do,
being prone to laughing too much,
and working with our voice mails blocked —
remember the cool, dark trees you saw out skiing:
think of the words, “cool and calm,”
surrounding you in your room.
If your tension continues to increase,
drift over white snow and lower your head slowly,
to study the ragged prints of birds.
When you are ready to pelt us with tart words,
remember your grandmother.
Pull her out of the pot of your regret, pull out
her arthritic hands and feet and uncurl them gently.
Say good morning to grandmother's hands,
bringing tears to your eyes.
Open and stretch a little at a time:
try belching and guffawing.
Finger paint a Mandela;
get one of your friends to bring you an ice cream
so big you will be eating it for half an hour;
spill it on your blouse and don't wipe it off —
go out into the street and fall in love
with a man who dances while he walks.