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thoughts, and disiplines.
Wait in the Chair
By Cynthia Macdonald

Food for the fat is like air. It fills you up
and lifts you out of the chair whether otherwise
you sit like a dead seal.
                                   But with pastry you soar.
The roar of ignition, the heavy ground recedes.
cares, sorrows sift out and float in air, just
another cloud—whipped cream,
                                   schlag—it does not
tempt you, does not preempt the plans for the day,
those plans which, struck in your chair, you despaired
of effecting.
                       The hopscotch, the basketball game,
the spring green park, animals walking
two by two never needing an ark, babies in prams,
all things bright and beautiful
                                               until, against
your will, you need to eat again. The sky grows
dark. It starts to rain. The park becomes a table
laden with goodies.
                                   Back to the chair and the pain.

Note: "'Wait in the Chair' - Published in The Paris Review, Spring 2004 issue.

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Article: 'Cynthia Macdonald, Poet Known for Humor and Ability to Shock, Dies at 87'
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Cynthia Macdonald
(Cynthia Lee Macdonald)
Born: February 2, 1928,  Manhattan, New York, USA
Died: August 3, 2015, Nursing home, Logan, Utah, USA
Her father, Leonard, was a screenwriter whose credits included “Dressed to Kill” and other Sherlock Holmes films.
Her mother, Dorothy Kiam, was a daughter of Houston clothier Edward Kiam.
In 1954 she married Elmer Cranston Macdonald, a Shell Oil executive -  ended in divorce.
Daughter, Jennifer Macdonald, artist, who in the 1990s produced installation art in partnership with Hillary Leone.
Her son is Scott.
She was an American poet.