Dear Mother in Your Iced-Tea House
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies…
—Frank O’Hara, Morning
Are you enjoying your freedom
goddess of the city, classical pianist
on the threshold of fame, Wonder
Woman of the Metropolitan Martini
in your surrogate sylph summer—
walk-in hair salons, manicured, pedicured,
and pampered, pursing your pouty
lips, swinging your sultry hips,
writing posies of prose and poetry,
queen of Manhattan night life
a frisée of golden beetroot
jasmine scented crimini over-easy
Hollandaise-poached quail eggs
avocados on the side, toast tips
drizzled with extra virgin truffle oil,
salmon roe and thin-sliced ginger,
breaking hearts and pocketbooks,
pocketing portfolios of rising stocks
nymph-like and childless, binging HBO—
Big Little Lies and I May Destroy You?
Oregon poet and artist Dale Champlin has published in Willawaw Journal, Cathexis, Pif, The Opiate, and elsewhere. In 2019 she published The Barbie Diaries. Two collections are forthcoming, Isadora and Calli
