Samantha Jubilee

Breakfast dishes sloshing as I scrape, wash & wipe
My feet prancing out the Joplin beat in my head
Soon no more chores, no more mother ranting,
My fingers hum and drum as bed sheets are straightened
Wool coat, wool hat, wool gloves, scratchy leggings
The itch to go, the itch to get away

Escape from scorched trails of cigarette smog,
Escape from heavy perfume sprayed to cover whiskey stench,
Escape from her hack, choke, gasp and wheeze,
Escape from baby wail and diaper pail,
Mother’s ever vigilant eyes that accuse me, use me, refuse me

Outside my beauty waits, crystallized steam rising
From brilliantly shined handlebars and bumpers
Out the door! Into crisp, tingly air of a March Saturday,
Pedaling fast, snatched away I lean into the wind,
Rejoicing in the icy sting that tinges lips blue, cheeks red, ears afire
The fastest Schwinn on the block becomes Pegasus, breached up into the sky

Joy barrels me along, through drowsy blocks of brick houses
A weekly quest to see how far the sky opens, how many
Zigs and zags can breathe clean frost into my being
Rushing towards the hour that waits for me, my appointed time
When music revels my soul, my heart, my thoughts
Teacher’s quick embrace as the coat comes off

An hour of soaring soul music begins
An hour of blessed acceptance, praise, credence for my existence
An hour of playful exploration, crashing chords on a grand piano,
An hour of delight in finger dancing melodies, holy ecstasy beckoning,
My heart caressed and soothed, sustenance for the six days to come.

The ride home is all uphill, muscles forcing reluctant pedals onward
Upward my beauty mules along now, no Pegasus to be found
Waiting ahead are stories to be read, toddlers to be fed,
Yet the hour inhabits me, echoes back with each evening’s practice
Chords can crash in my mind, ivories can tingle my fingers
And I will ride the wind to join St. Cecelia again.