in waking moments she often climbed Jacob’s ladder

why? she knew not, cared not if the truth be told

yet she could testify first hand to all who might listen

that atop this puffed-up earthly domain all there was

was a place barren of hidden desires and emotions

a tedious realm of ‘in your face’ grinning do-gooders

and a whiffy care home for the reluctantly unspoiled

her preference for as long as she could remember

was a bandaged whereabouts where realities purity

was indistinguishable from the abstract, namely

the immaculate cloud cuckoo land of deepest sleep

her pronouncements upon waking

were both sought after and legendry

they earned her a pretty penny

from those seeking imperial predictions

those others questing direct messages

from the ghosts of loved and hated ones

indeed, she had oft considered the fact

that the offerings of her mind surpassed

the tiresome eternal male pursuit


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