Jack in the Box
the nursery’s awash
in colorful toys from
artisans peddling
their wares
on the web
safety first
sensitivity
learning through play
the finest
sustainable materials
pulled from
the earth
all painted
with the stripes
of tolerance
of affirmation
of celebration
of differences
the outdated
jack in the box
horror in the form
of a mechanical joke
is up on the shelf
or relegated further
to the storage closet
goodwill or the dump
nobody turns
the crank anymore tolerates
the awful clank and timbre
of tired tin notes
no one pauses breathless
in titillating expectation
for the predictable explosion
when the horrible head
of a demented clown
pops through the unhinged lid
bobs on its viper coil
forever smirking
its blue eyes mocking
its white noggin flying
its orange-red hair curling
as lead paint painted on
porcelain and soft wood
but just wait
a grandchild
or great grandchild
of an unborn generation
will eventually wander
high up into the old house
if the old house is still standing
to the attic where articles of faith
are forgotten where none
has ventured for some time
she’ll pull down
from a dusty shelf
or out from a trunk
almost hidden under eaves
through a tangle of cobwebs
in the dim illumination
from a grimy window
a strange painted cube
she’ll wonder
what it does as she
unfastens the simple lock
cranks the rusty handle
startles as
the forgotten head
bursts up
after its long wait
again and again and again
and when she’s bored
from the commotion
she’ll carry
the weird prize
with its delicious secret
down the backstairs
to her sun-filled room