It would have to be red I thought but then I remembered Rita
Hayworth’s gown in Gilda from last weekend’s matinee.
Black. Satin. Strapless. Tight. With a Hip-To-Ankle Slit.
Perfect for my saunter down Main Street. I’d take long,
long strides to make sure my left leg shows through
that slit and smiling my most sophisticated gunmoll smile.
Teetering in my one-inch patent leather Cuban heels
I’ll toss my too curly red hair with distain
as I pass those ne’er-do-wells lounging in front
of the railroad station, ignoring their whistles.
I’ll wear that dress all over town, even into the A & P,
up and down its aisles buying nothing as my allowance
is in my school bag which would have definitely spoiled
the effect. From Monfort’s farm to the Port Washington town dock
I’ll get to strut in my black satin strapless dress and back
again maybe even twice before my mother hears about it.
Sarah Brown Weitzman, a past National Endowment for the Arts Fellow in Poetry and Pushcart Prize nominee, is widely published in hundreds of journals and anthologies including New Ohio Review, North American Review, Rattle, Verse Daily, Mid-American Review, Poet Lore, Potomac Review, Miramar, Spillway and elsewhere. Her latest chapbook is forthcoming from Darkhouse Press.