Red high heels, plastic pearls,
a weekend’s worth of Beauty
and the Beast, Lion King, Snow
White, and my niece is turning
hoarse, rocking, rocking
her body against the back
seat of my car. Her crying
now coming out my ears.
I look in the rearview mirror
but she’s too small. I see
almost my mother’s face and rub
the lined brow, my fingers
cold, white, gripping
the back seat of my uncle’s car,
noise as we pull away, my
aunt’s voice like the ocean
loud in my ears, my uncle’s head
suspended above the seat, my
mother shrinking
through the window.
About the AuthorLinda McCauley Freeman (formerly Linda Mytych) was poet-in-residence for the Putnam Arts Council for two years and has been featured poet at many art centers, bookstores and cafes. She has an MFA in Writing and Literature from Bennington College and is the communications director for a worldwide firm. Her work has appeared in Girls: An Anthology by Global City Press, and other publications. She is married to the novelist, Chester Freeman. Linda tells us she wrote this poem " after reading Jon Berryman's Dreamsongs My idea here was to put Henry in the 1990's."
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