Irene Duyen

Around The Corner Mama can't see around the corner, under my shirt where I keep those traps, she says I'll get a piece of heaven like hers. Rolling in the morning, blessed with a broad back in bed. Hoping to see the man in the beard but Johnny, just Johnny, still Johnny. Riding up hills, queen of spades in the spokes. Watching from a porch swing for one, anyone would do. Might be around the corner, where grasses sway like dresses on Sunday and Sally got religion and a wart. Where they play with pockets full of rocks and pen knives, poking at dead rats. Around the corner, where their eyes once up, now down to breasts. Down, down to dark town and in. Where women go, where girls once went, riding naked while men sat on fences and smoked. I'll be there soon, left my frills on the merry-go-round around the corner. Traded them in for sweat-hot nights and the right to own two legs. Too late now with the ticket in the pawnman's hand. Found it back behind the drugstore, made Johnny a queen of hearts with brown hair and a smile. Peeked around the corner to see a little girl following me in knee socks and diamonds for eyes.

Copyright © 1999 Irene Duyen All Rights Reserved