he is off fighting in the war
on the other side of the world
as i wait at home
growing my victory garden
letters and postcards tied in ribbons
as the record player weeps
p.s. i love you
my wringing hands plead to mars for his safe return
in the knowing hope chests so easily
convert to coffins
his cause is the same my father’s was
a battle often lost
and here i am again
buying war bonds
the little girl in mary janes
pig tails sad brown eyes
and a sun dress
watching daddy die too soon
from too many pills too much bottled poison and black
cigarette in bed
depressions
so sure i can save
this one
from his invading army
One reply on “rosie the riveter”
chills