She paddled down the river in her shoes, naked
except for those. It was the middle of winter.
Purple light, soft on her tongue, she felt
the heat of morning in her thighs. Over Sumner
Falls Lucretia went, walking not floating, moving
slowly nonetheless, good for nothing, slovenly
slut, the dampness caused her hair to grow,
tender rocks of truth fell at her feet. Along
the murky bottom she ran, big flabby beauty she
was, I think she'll be a queen. Her flowery knees
were strong as posts. They were the best I'd
ever seen. Les jeux sont faits the river whispered
and swallowed hard against her frame. Purple
shoes floated high on foam. End game.



About the author:
I have been writing poetry for over a fifteen years, mostly for adults, and have published in several literary magazines. In the summer of 2004 I was awarded the Robert Penn Warren Prize for free verse for my poem, "Neighbors in the North End."

In July 2005 I graduated from the Vermont College / Union Institute & University Writing for Children and Young Adults Program. While at Vermont College I worked with poets Ron Koertge, Sharon Darrow, Louise Hawes, and Paul Janeczko.

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