Compression

by Linda E. Cable
SplashHall Poetry
Honorable Mention, October 2008
Judged by Hélène Cardona and John Fitzgerald


I was born somewhere between
tank parades, and blond step tables
adorned with oriental maidens
standing guard at picture windows.

The world turned hard and plastic
and the word was white.
It was lunch buckets, and fins at five o’clock,
gliding through cul-de-sacs.

Veterans scanned new laid sod for insurgents,
seeking rest on rayon sofas,
sustenance on TV tables,
quiet nights and just rewards.

One act plays were cast on patios,
blue collar boasts of Bradley and Patton,
housewives flouncing in skirts from Federals
to the tune of “Love Letters In The Sand.”

We seemed so pretty then,
living advertisements for Amana,
True Grit and American Bandstand,
crayon copies of black and white movie stars.

I came of age somewhere between
The Mickey Mouse Club and Dallas,
in the year alabaster figurines shattered
with the sound of the first gun shot.



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