It is 1974 and out the institutional open windows

of the college dorm, nylon bikinis in floral prints

are plummeting like the cheap bodies of birds. And then

your mother’s large white briefs like a mainsail, like

a flag of surrender, begin a slow dancing down current,

cinematic, lithe. All of the faces

are turning up, hushed, like those

holding a hoop to save a child burning. It is the opposite

of being lifted into the sky

the way I imagined my grandfather ascending

after the long pain of illness: this large pair of underpants

falling forever on the startled face

of an undergraduate boy.

–  Terri Ford

For Paula Snow


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s