Queue By Katje Kaase She boxed up her passion And packed it away in a Cedar trunk in the cellar It was

just another succession Of attempts to appear normal She had wrapped so many Packages, some even trimmed In silver paper with matching bows But others still lay drab and dormant Waiting in line to be opened She recorded each container And made a list of their contents It was a continuous process, Much like a series of books Arranged alphabetically on a shelf Or a chain of events That would occur to create A tragedy Or perhaps a skew in time Passion was a paradox An oblique obstacle that Had to be unwrapped gently To appease and pacify Those who could not Comprehend her sudden Bursts of intensity They were not aware of Her intricate queue But the cellar summoned Incessantly September, 2013