Saving it for Later

Whose afraid of being happy?
A woman who once was gleeful
as a Marmoset dancing a Mambo
to Marimba became afraid of being happy,
Postponing all possible pleasure became a
way of life.


			
She was as superstitious as a voodoo
Haitian princess,ever alert for omens,
good or bad, worrying her good fortune
might trigger envy.
Diplomas were 
hung in the bathroom,
and she wore her diamond ring upside-down.
Moments of 
joy were followed by a magical rigmarole
to ward off jealous spirits,
a "kenahorra","malocchio", and a knock on wood
just in case.

			

She squirreled away her family heirlooms
Sterling silver and baccarat crystal in eaves
of an attic,as if she were hearing rumbling
horse hoofs of Cossacks threatening a pogrom.



			Shoes were hoarded and never worn.
Unused boxes of suede gloves and fine French
linen and lace languished in closets, Mohair
shawls that might have warmed her back on
chill winter days never left her dresser drawer.
A choice case of Beaujolais 
forgotten in the 
basement turned to vinegar.
She was saving it all for later



			Holiday gifts were never opened.
Her pantry looked
like a bootleg warehouse in Nigeria.
Filled with her favorites: chocolate-covered orange
peels, Dromedary dates, Macadamia nuts and
Maraschino cherries.
She was saving it all for later.



			She treasured her old Boffendorfer.
Polished every day.
But never got around to play.
She was saving it for later,
but passed away before later ever came.



			Milton Ehrlich