To Gift a Smile

BY ANWEN MARSHALL

You give me a smile, 

pass it under the table 

so that no one else sees. 

Wrapped up neatly, a red ribbon 

pulled too tightly will bleed. 

But this one’s right in place. 

The white picket gate 

barred, shut-in: a welcome 

or sign to escape. 

I can pass it along or keep it 

forever or borrow it, 

hold it out loud— 

but I have custody now, 

even in secret. 

You signed it with a smile 

left here with me,  

yet you keep the key 

to the little red box. 

Could you expect me to keep it? 

What payment is just 

but mine in return? 

If I make it worthy 

could I buy the key 

to those locked gates, 

bathe inside 

what you guard 

but flaunt me with, 

or put it in my pocket, 

give up, in exchange, 

speak through the eyes? 

As if nothing had changed, 

we'd each have a smile 

to ward off all else. 

Cover Image: Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Le Déjeuner, Oil on canvas, 49.2 x 60 cm, 1875. Barnes Foundation Collection Online.