THE MARCHIONESS

 
already making your big sisters jealous,
brown skin with an impish grin
with an April bud’s burgeoning hormones

but are you any good at anything?

on the beach
distracting every eye

or, at the dock,
stepping into the boat,
you don’t mind sharing yourself
with the leers of all these others

the smile never trips up
but sometimes the feet do

you’re not always looking where you’re going

your rhythm is more Parish Match
than what the sand requires

and yet
even when you tumble,
it’s still a triumph

for guys run from everywhere
to help you to your feet

and you stand all that much taller
when you rise again

but there’s still that question no one answers

are you any good at anything?

 


 
STELLA

 
her poetry
has a
limited wardrobe

either
it goes about
buck naked

or it’s
huddled in a corner
all in black

 

 

YOUR FIRST DINNER WITH HIS FAMILY

 
Turkey dinner.
You're seated around a table with family.
His family.
The father slices the bird,
slow and deep,
like he’s cutting into your flesh.
The mother’s eyes see through
to your own mother’s upbringing,
your father’s second shift job
at the factory.
The teenage sister
giggles at your dress sense.
The little brother
hates anything female anyhow.
It’s like a beach
with jellyfish in the water.