cheerleading
uniform, she tells me, while
doing a cartwheel
across the kitchen floor.
careful, i tell her.
i just waxed the tile.
her hair is pulled back
into a pony tail,
and she's painted little
dixie flags on her cheeks.
we were called the rebels
she said. our cheer
was the rebel yell.
well, you might have
to change that, i tell her.
the south ain't gonna rise
no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment