It could translate Hollywood-ease
It was poster girl, haloed
It was nippled, giggled, posed
It skinny-dipped as Barbie
It was center-folded, air-brushed
It got split ends, fatigued
It bristled for papparazi
It cried catcall, cancer, chemo
It was shaved, shameless
*
Mine was teased
It counted bad hair days
It got feathered for date nights
It brushed against my red swimsuit
It befell teen-age wands, dye boxes
It parted amicably, lost its roots
It sported stretch marks
It bought Star Magazine
It dreamt neophyte angels
Waves of Texas wheat
[+]
Fran lives in Ithaca, NY, where she works as a psychotherapist. Her poems have been in journals including: Calyx, RATTLE, Runes, Karamu, Sow's Ear Poetry Review, Cider Press Review, Redactions, Harpur's Palate, among others.
