artwork: ralph murre
Great Expectations
by Liz Dolan
It was always up to
us, Sister said
lauding
eleven-year-old
Beata Maria Goretti as
a model,
slashed dead rather
than surrender her purity.
As if we who wanted to
be good
could guard the locks
stemming floods
which would engulf us
all.
On the Lexington Avenue
memorizing amo, amas,
amat,
while hugging steel
poles,
we were crushed by
fine-suited gents
who sought out trim
navy blue virgins,
our elbows a pointless
defense as trains
undulated to rhythms
of the morning rush.
And how could we be
expected to keep saying no
as our blue-tied
reflection careened
through shadowy
tunnels into Manhattan
when even Joltin’ Joe,
La Bella Figura,
hooked up with Marilyn
who never said no,
her vanilla skirt
billowing like a parachute
pulling her towards
heaven.
~ previously published in Token
Entry:
An Anthology of Subway Poems
