by: Tonja Taylor

Has anyone seen it—my dear aplomb?
Maybe I left it behind at home;
Or put it on a secret shelf,
To wear when I didn’t like myself.

I had it before; it was clearly seen,
Or so to my keen intellect it seemed; 
Didn’t I infer what they implied?
I thought t’was my aplomb they spied—

Sparkling, striking, powerfully pleasing;
“It becomes you,” they said with a grin.
(Then again, it might have been
That they were only teasing.)

Surely it didn’t fall and slip
Down the sink while I did dishes–
Now lost on some iridescent trip
Of ethereal suds and squishes?

Did the maid, in cleaning determination
Think it dust or an aberration?
And remove it forever from its place
In the room where I daily put on my face?

I wore it with charm and poise, and grace.
With style, panache, finesse,
But now I have misplaced my aplomb,
And everything’s a mess.

Maybe the verbal snafu last night
Caused my aplomb to leave in flight;
I should have know it could erase
It; and perhaps make me lose face …

It’s quite the faux pa I have made
I guess; but even so
The moi I was I wouldn’t trade
For the new me I now know.

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