Sunday Afternoon

 

Somewhere in Kansas

a first grade teacher

dances naked

to a CD she bought

at WalMart

for ninety-nine cents

 

Pictures of Jesus

smile kindly

from heirloom frames

on her double dresser

 

Report cards,

notes to parents

about their children’s disabilities

scatter on the quilt

Great Aunt Sarah sewed

a hundred years ago

 

Someone must have told her

more than once,

Janet Ann, always

tuck your dress between your knees

 

They never reckoned

what itched and swarmed inside

would send her off to faraway towns

on Saturday nights

to dance slow in the blue lights

of highway bars with a stranger

in a cowboy hat who wrapped her head

into his smoky vest,

just to hear him softly sing into her ear,

“Our love’s a gonna grow,

oo-wah, oo-wah…..”