Today's poem is by Jeannine Hall Gailey
Wonder Woman Dreams of the Amazon
I miss the tropes of Paradisegreen vines
roped around wrists, jasmine coronets,
the improbable misty clothing of my tribe.
I dream of the land of my birth. They named
me after their patron Goddess.
I was to be a warrior for their kind.
I miss my mother, Hippolyta.
In my dreams she wraps me tightly
again in the American flag,
warning me, “Cling to your bracelets,
your magic lasso. Don't be a fool for men.”
She's always lecturing me, telling me
not to leave her. Sometimes she changes
into a doe, and I see my father
shooting her, her blood. Sometimes,
in these dreams, it is me who shoots her.
My daily transformation
from prim kitten-bowed suit to bustier
with red-white-and-blue stars
is less complicated. The invisible jet
makes for clean escapes.
The animals are my spies and allies;
inexplicably, snow-feathered doves
appear in my hands. I capture Nazis
and Martians with boomerang grace.
When I turn and turn, the music plays louder,
the glow around me burns white-hot,
I become everything I was born to be,
the dreams of the mother,
the threat of the father.
Copyright © 2005 Jeannine Hall Gailey All rights reserved
from The American Poetry Journal
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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