Baglady

A transposed piece from my second sememster of creative writing. Transposed from the story of the same name by A.S Byatt

I travelled with him and the other wives,

He said it was a duty,

So I took of my boot and put on my heels,

But I still don’t fit in,

I’m older and dowdier and not pencil-skirt thin,

Our distraction for today is the Good Fortune Mall,

Where we are expected to shop a good haul,

I am left all alone on the first floor,

And I look past the less fortunate.

 

Before I know it, I’ve climbed up the levels,

I’ve picked up a few odds and ends,

I look down at my watch,

And I realise that it almost time to meet,

Back at the front door,

 

I tore my clothes on the way down,

My make up smile-turned frown,

These routes chop and change, schism

Keep you confined, consumer’s paradise, prison,

This place plummets into the earth forever,

Extending downwards, Hell’s ladder,

Impossible to tell where I am, where I’ve been,

Dashing down halls and stairs, “designed to keep you in”

I’m lost and stripped, left only with my name,

Screaming at shop-keepers who all look the same,

They are hissing dragons, guarding treasure,

They are the keepers, dealing in capitalist pleasure,

They smile at your money, until you have none,

Your own personal teller, until you are done.

 

The time to meet is now well past,

The hands of the clock whirl round so fast,

I find a guard and tell him I’ve been left behind,

But all he does is glare and say,

He has no time for my kind.