Silly Skirt Poem Page 11

Silly Skirt Poem: Page 11- And when she set to twirling

Hand embroidery on raw canvas

SILLY SKIRT POEM

The cell was small, the skirt was wide

What’s under there? her cell mates cried

A cloven hoof? A hairy leg?

Or treasure trove To make men beg?

They saw her enigmatic smile

The spark that fired her wondering eye

And when she set to twirling

They saw time flying by

No pleas could stall her passing

No tears put out her flame

When only smoke and ash remained

(and shame no one would claim)

They could not tell her story

Having never asked her name