We don’t have dancing plagues
anymore, healed by prayer
to Saint Vitus, or stopped
by death, but we miss the mass release
psychosis can become
when it’s copied by a crowd.
I yearn for a season of fainting spells
or contagious laughter;
a sidelong infection
of temporary sanity
lifting blinders from eyelids
long enough to shock
to sink unconscious;
or roll on the ground,
giggling, breathless
refusing to be taught. Maybe
it’s the emperor naked
they see, making them laugh
so hard and without explanation
but no one’s telling.
***My research yesterday into dancing plagues led to discovering a laughter epidemic in Tanzania, and a fainting one on the West Bank. Had to roll with these. Hope I am done with my “conversational” pieces for a while.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Love the rhythm in this one Susan ~ very fitting given the topic 🙂
Thanks, Polly!
and what’s so wrong with your ‘conversational’ pieces I do ask? I say nothing at all 🙂
😉
Perhaps nothing, but I would rather show than tell. I feel like an old man, putting his feet up and telling war stories.
I am sure you will find your rhythm again, you are too clever not too. 🙂
I do that all the time on my blog.
😦
: D
But, I like telling stories too 😉
ok please write some short stories, I have never seen any. The challenge is set woman!
I love anything with a narrative in it. Stories are important. Now I have to go look at the laughing epidemic in Tanzania.
You’ll love it…
This is just masterful, I adore it. I would write this on my wall.
You, Shrinks, are lovely for saying so. XO
It would be nice. I find pockets of happiness; it would be nice to find a time where it was rule and not exception.
Oh, yes. Let’s start a laughing fever. Or fevered laughing. As long as whatever we start laughs.