- In the Altha diner on the Florida panhandle
- a stocky white-haired woman
- with a plastic nameplate "Mildred"
- gently turns my burger, and I fall into grief.
- I remember the long, hot drives to North Carolina
- to visit Aunt Alma, who puts up quarts and peaches,
- and my grandmother Gladys and her pieced quilts.
- Many names are almost gone: Gertrude, Myrtle,
- Agnes, Bernice, Hortense, Edna, Doris and Hilda.
- They were wide women, cotton clothed, early-rising.
- You have to move your mouth to say their names.
- and they meant stength, spear, battle and victory.
- When did women stop being Saxons and Goths?
- What frog Fate turned them into Alison, Melissa,
- Valerie, Natalie, Adrienne, and Lucinda,
- diminshed them to Wendy, Cindy, Susy and Vicky?
- I look at these young women
- and hope they are headed for the Presidency,
- but I fear America has other plans in mind,
- that they be no longer at war
- but subdued instead in amorphous corporate work,
- somebody's assistant, something in a bank,
- single parent with word processing skills.
- They must have been made French
- so they could be cheap foreign labor.
- Well, all I can say is,
- Good luck to you
- Kimberly, Darlene, Cheryl, Heather, and Amy.
- Good luck April, Melanie, Becky, and Kelly.
- I hope it goes well for you.
- But for a moment let us mourn.
- Now is the time to say goodbye
- to Florence, Muriel, Ethel and Thelma.
- Goodbye Minnie, Ada, Bertha, and Edith.
feb 27 2015 ∞
apr 10 2015 +
apr 10 2015 +