Playing
for Dorothy
The mentality of the oppressed took aim and she
would fidget and stutter have to figure out each
move same as a wolf pup under spotlight and
gun except that it was the family itself Papa
who wanted her mad to lock up and be rid of
She knew it always next to her sister the angel
who preceded her the one who now was the one
going mad foaming and raging not innocent like
she the star of this poem who twenty five years
old on a bit of peyote sat quietly playing under her
inner sky fat fingered and intensely happy it seemed
on the floor of the 26th Street loft a young woman
uncorrupted like the child devils who had stolen
her friend’s playmate at the age of four saying bad
words and lying from the dens of their heart No malice
ever in her no needles or bloated tongue flapping for relief
No! Purely playing as her friend danced behind the
old man mask, she redeemed everyone in the room
her friend, the young men who lived there, and even me
Rosaura
The closet is full of his clothes, the jacket with dandruff
and all the rest. I tell my friends he’ll be back
to collect them Besides there’s a new man now
and we’re practicing the tango
But he leaves, too, and I wait. Nothing happens
He’s having problems with his visa
I’m like a past century whaler’s wife
He’s gone and there’s a war on
Everything seems wrong. I surrender
My guru says that’s what to do
I forget myself in my work
I‘m an acress. A good one. And I believe
Roberta Gould… Among her 9 published books are : Writing Air Written Water, Only Rock Not By Blood Alone, Pacing the Wind and Louder Than Seed, She has worked with solidarity groups for Latin America and Haiti, organized a responsible tourist campaign, recently studied entomology and geology and is looking for a ping pong partner.