by Carol Schoen
Won’t go to Harlem in ermine and pearls…
Hope promises chocolate chip
mint, when there’s only mango
sorbet. Date and nut memories
chock full of lunch
counters. New York in my head
like magnolia blossoms, tiaras
decorating my bouffant,
but tough broad chews me up
like peanuts, spits
me out like shells. Bitch city.
Carol Schoen wrote her first poems for Sarah White’s study group and has been chugging along happily ever since.