Thanks to Rick for finding this and passing it back to me. Rick, a friend now, was a student if mine many moons ago when I penned this poem. I had not seen this draft for 15 years before today.
I can’t tell you where or why I met Annie, but have never forgotten her or her stories….
SILVER DOLLAR ANNIE
The last time I saw her
was the day before her wedding
kneeling in her garden
packing unneeded soil
over already sturdy bases
She was beautiful in the shade:
snakeskin diamonds: cool shadows
cast by leaves above her
I shut my eyes
and the memories revolved:
I saw the dance hall’s mirrored ball,
the bachelor’s party
at the Saddleman’s Club
where nothing’s left to the imagination:
Annie’s body was more public than most
she’d won local fame for dancing
with a silver dollar
men would place between her breasts
dollars she’d keep if they did not fall fell
and never did
The loud profranties
had to remind her of her father
the sorry bastard whose cock
rose at the rush of a shower
or the clink of a hanger
and Annie in search of a bedclothes
But, her nightgown always collapsed
poured into itself
until the dim light of broken promises
rose again on another tired day
How I came to know her after this
is less important than that night
she slow danced and hugged herself
into a dark trance
before almost letting go
of reticent tears
the clear wine of a new covenant
And the men too nearly wept
and suddenly, quietly returned home to their wives
She did not see me on either occasion:
This time because she was smiling at a thrush
preparing a nest in a boil of leaves
when the wind moved her hair
behind her ear, whispered
a long traveled promise
and dried her cheek with a kiss
she closed her eyes to accept
