As a tot she was
Surrounded by fishbowl silence
She had no horns
No wings, no tail
Just a smile nobody
Noticed while adults
Talked at mealtime.
She did not ask
What worth she had--
Who am it or
What is I.
When guests arrived
She gulped down food
Slipped out of her chair
And floated into her room
Like a bubble and
Burst behind closed doors.

Now she's an actress
In search of a script.
Sometimes she freaks out
Tired of her horns
Wings, tail, tired
Of bowing, smiling
For no one. Guests come
And do not wonder
Who she is or
Is she an it
A doormat, an empty chair
A wallflower or decor.
She still remembers to
Sneak out like a bubble
Float into her room and
Burst behind closed doors.
She is protected
By her fishbowl silence.

-"Wife" by Marra PL. Lanot-