Altruism

her eyebrow is always poised for disdain
she clears her throat and busy bees pause for direction
she is the grand dame of the bake sale,
the sacred holder of what is defined as right
the matriarch of a society of do-gooders
with a single gift from Satan
that vicious tongue
that spine-encrusted, searing sword of retribution
always at the ready
to make a child cry for a misplaced napkin
to make a mother question her worth
to make a preacher fear his congregation
she is the demon of public humiliation clad in gingham and emotional razorblades
isn't she sweet?
she does so much for the community
she really knows what's best
for them
for us
for her
and when the angels sing to herald her
great walk into the light
she has expected all her life
and the trumpets peal and the
choir of those she has led to glory
pave her path to heaven
and gild her chariot of righteousness
I sit
nervous in my pew
wondering
will the devil smile a secret grin
will he rejoice in some small measure too
that one of his own has infiltrated
the great kingdom of naked cherubs
to sit in judgment on her winged companions
will guilt and shame
have made her merry way through Saint Peter's gate
on the back of altruism
on the back of those she's slain with condescension
"Straighten up!"
that familiar glare
"Yes, Grandma."
that familiar bow to evil in the mask of holy might