The folks from Belize
still talk of Louise -
about her most shocking
astonishing sneeze.
It’s curious how
at sixty-five pounds,
she’s able to make
such deafening sounds.
It starts with a gasp
before the exhale.
Her quivering lips
will pucker and pale.
She wrinkles her nose,
her cheeks are bright pink,
her breath is unsteady,
both eyes start to blink
She wheezes and whines,
splutters and squeals,
throws back her head,
and kicks up her heels.
Her face is contorted
and turns a strange hue.
Then the explosion -
AH-AH-AH-CHOO!
All traffic is halted,
pedestrians stop.
The onlookers reel
from tremors and shock.
The children inside
all hide under beds.
Adults lie down flat
and cover their heads.
Dogs squeal in fear
at high-frequency sound,
the birds start to panic
and fall to the ground.
At the end of the sneeze,
the crowd looks around,
at uprooted flowers
and trees on the ground.
But Louise is composed
as she pulls out a tissue,
ignoring the fact that
her sneeze is an issue.
She dabs at her nose
and blows it discreetly,
then looks at the crowd
and smiles at them sweetly.
The people stand silent
in awe and dismay.
“I’m waiting for something...”
they hear Louise say.
“Your horrible manners
have caused me distress.
I’ve not heard gesundheit,
or even God bless!”
© Susan Jakubowski

Enjoyed this one? Susan’s manuscript is full of poems waiting their turn—take a peek at a few more, or get in touch to ask about the unpublished collection.