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The Fifty-Foot Woman |
Once, before I was born,
a grocery clerk got too big
for his britches, his god-like lumber
his Rudy Vallee vocals
smashed the class system
and he married the boss’ daughter
took her to Lizzie Borden’s funeral
on their honeymoon
That was before the sky’s speed limit
was broken by the turbo drawl and
blurr of ramjet smeared against blue
when the run, duck and cover of LIFE
shouted PROGRESS
in gray-tones and half-lives
when moms put on their pearls and
Max Factor to go to the grocery store
battled stress with martinis
morning sickness with thalidomide
and vacuumed in black pumps and nylons
Now, while small-minded men sniff
the hills, I diaper myself with sheets
stolen off some woman’s laundry-line
write in the sand, nature poems that begin
The redwoods sentinal the canyon
casting calm on my slumber
and know, I’m my father’s daughter
copyright 2004
Elizabeth
Iannaci |
