to my last period
well girl, goodbye,
after thirty-eight years.
thirty-eight years and you
never arrived
splendid in your red dress
without trouble for me
somewhere, somehow.
now it is done
and I feel just like
the grandmothers who,
after the hussy has gone,
sit holding her photograph
and sighing, wasn't she
beautiful? wasn't she beautiful?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
I can't quite believe you posted this lol
Like it.
i can't believe this is the only lucille clifton poem i've got on here. there will be more...!
yeesh - looking forward to the next installment from her, extremely quirky
and there they are, but neither is the pome i thought i was going to put up
love this.
keep shining.
Post a Comment