other peoples poetry, poetry

The Queen Of Old Orchard Beach, Maine

every summer, she comes here
between tours
the emo kids mixing in
perfectly with the baby
she rests on the beach, with a
shadow of a ferris wheel
in the background

every summer, she comes
just when the lobster boats
are holding sway, far off into the
ocean, barely visible

she’ll take off her top
and the sun will make love
to her body

she always wears wayfarers,
though the shopkeepers say
her blue eyes pierce like

I have been brave enough to
walk over to her a few times,
and say” hello,”
once, pretending my beach
ball went over by

she just smiled in that way
people who are affluent do,

it was like a miracle!

on her right leg,
were the names of her
nieces and nephews, she

an older couple sitting not
far from us, says
the government should do
a better job of guarding its

brunette hair covers her face,
like a shaggy dog;
she brushes it back

I react as if
I’ve seen an epiphany

she asks me who’s better
Miles Davis or John Coltrane?

I don’t immediately answer

i’m transfixed by the
tattoo on her right arm
the one of the French flag
with the term under it that reads

Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite

a poem for Liz by Erren Geraud Kelly/ November 20, 2015


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