Flowered mesh captures hair floating above sun-glassed eyes
She sneaked the harsh Chinese cigarettes
Striking the match on the bottom of her shoe
Her cloyingly touch caused my brother to seethe
She changed her name and learned to swim
Rolled her hips and shimmied at a club on Calle Ocho.
She’s a bit of a strange old bird
With her nest of curly gray hair
So, three husbands and two dogs later,
she left Kenosha and
moved down to Ft. Lauderdale.
She’s making friends and breaking
hearts at the Royal Palms Retirement Community.
There she spikes the punch on bingo night,
and raises eyebrows and heartbeats with
her provocative, flamboyant shuffleboard style.
She may get kicked out,
once again,
If her chain-smoking
doesn’t finish her off first.
April 8, 2008
Finished from lines of a Chain Poem at ReadWritePoem.
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3 comments:
Thanks for your comments on my poem for Aunt Week. Appreciate any and all thoughts.
Love the feel of this poem. I can smell the smoke that's ingrained in her pores, and that hair has some serious nesting going on. Seriously. AnnieH
Thanks Shiny Objects. Half of it is mine and the other half came from other great contributing poets. It's one I want to rewrite later.
You took this is a great direction!
It's lots of fun to read. Great~
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