on a sunny porch     ready
for church    I
going on fourteen     proud
in a new white
dress of my own

piqué weskit
skirt pulled to
fullness in
back     big border of
purple flowers     little white
hat and gloves     white
prayerbook in hand
grown-up lipstick

compliments flow from my
father like
warm sweet juice
he's never
noticed me before

silent anger
crackles in the air     my mother
turns away

Maureen Eppstein

If you've any comment on this poem, Maureen Eppstein would be pleased to hear from you.