Melissa Prunty Kemp

30 Day Poetry Challenge: National Poetry Writing Month

DAY 9

 

 

 

Halo on Sunday Morning

-- After “The River Merchant’s Wife, A Letter” by Ezra Pound

 

 

After a Saturday press-n-curl, Shirley Temples cylindrical, dipping, I played carefully. Waiting, a Sunday dress with daisies on the shoulders. I pull the oxeyes and tie a necklace. I will match Mama.

 

You came to church with sleeves too long, pants needing hems. You jumped from folding metal chair to Sunday school stage, increasing the shine on your knees as you scooted after the Vietcong. You were GI Joe. You yelled Gung Ho in my ear and pushed me. Later you threw spitballs and Brach’s Butterscotch wrappers. And we went on living on our mountain of Sundays, you with alcoholics in a square city white house with a second story veranda; me in a preacher’s rural brick ranch on sprawling land.

 

What if you hadn’t become my boyfriend at 16? What if my 12-year-old eyes had never opened, never saw your halo that Sunday afternoon? If I hadn’t been bold and cornered you on the church side steps, hadn’t forced my stare into yours, eye to eye? You lowered your gaze, smiled, looked away like a proper young lady should when a man makes advances.

 

 

© 4/9/14 by Melissa Prunty Kemp