The Inevitable Consequence of a Glass House

The Inevitable Consequence of a Glass House

Downwind of the gossip's where
she drops her anchor. Not enough
to know the weight of gold in metric
when what's at stake 
is brunch and tea
is served with pearls and twin-set.

Curtains either close too tight
or never meet and daylight stabs
a pinky finger in every pie
she bakes. When the RSVPs came late
summer was a one-woman 
washout. Unstuck 

by a rueful combination
of broken watch and too-high heel,
she bounced her big fat tongue
from snide side-swipe to full blown gaffe
with no regard 
for testaments and wills. 

If only she had cocked an ear
and caught the candy-coloured names
of all those one time only dinner guests—
there'd be cars parked in the drive,
and gossip brightening up the hallway.

~