Poetry: I, the Madwoman by Fabrice Poussin



I, the Madwoman
 
You see me in the greasy aisle
Avoiding contact with the living.
 
You hear me on the avenue
Escaping the giant at rush hour.
 
I speak inanities with a grin
Dressed in my Sunday best.
 
You may cringe when I laugh
In the midst of disconnected syllables.
 
Of course you laugh at my pirouette
As I dance in the crowded square.
 
You call me crazy at midday
For my lonesome dialogue.
 
Little do you know that it is a joke
I play on you as I truly live.




Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. His work has appeared in KestrelSymposiumThe Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review and the San Pedro River Review in addition to other art and literary magazines in the United States and abroad.

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