Royalty

'Remember when I was Queen?'
her brown button eyes
sparkling in her aging kewpie doll face.

'I was in that white convertible,
you know the one - Dr King had it -
it was white.'

' I beat out Kate O'Malley for Queen,'
 she recalled,
'Oh yes.' the past shining through
the reality of what was to come

to both of them, Kate O'Malley and my
sister,
brought now to living with cats and other
Former Queens,
stealing extra desserts at supper,
secreting sweets and memories
pocketed to later savor.

The bloom was off the rose, as they say,
by eighteen;
girls of easy smiles
and easy ways
in an unforgiving town.

'Gather ye rosebuds--'
I'm glad they had their day,
a youth misspent to look back upon
with glittering round brown eyes,
a wistful smile,
a pocketful of tears.

summer 1969, redux

I long ago wrote a poem about girls and summer and suntan lotion and being a size 9-10.  I re-wrote it last week, and am still working on it.  The previous title was "Missy - Size 9-10."

Here's the latest, with a new title:

Summer,  1969

'Brown fat looks better than white fat,' she said,
as we climbed onto the roof
to self-baste in the blazing Wisconsin
summer.

My friend was plump, as we used to say of
pleasingly round girls - plump
like soft pillows with
dimples in their pretty knees.

Girls with curves
and possibilities -

The sun has traced a treasure map
across the years
celebrating every sun-soaked
rooftop hour,
each golden day at the lake...

and every long-ago caress
over sun-kissed skin,
brown and slick in the summer sun.

virginia wolfe speaks through nikki giovanni - kein titel

I am a motherless child,
daughter of the moon-song,
sister of the coyote
over the ridge.

I am the song of dawn
and the morning star,
the dew like diamonds
at your feet.

I am your heart of hearts,
everything you want to be
held inside me
like a pearl.