Wand

My mother sometimes called me “plate butt.”
I have no ass, not the slightest hint of bubble.
If I were a child with a wand in the backyard,
a tiny Brigadoon rainbow would never appear.

There’d be nothing, nothing at all, to pop.
“Your girl’s gonna need something to hang onto.”
Ever defensive, I’d proudly suggest my heart.
“Lighten up, plate butt. Let’s play frisbee.”

Ralph James Savarese | Looking at Old Photographs
Contents | Mudlark No. 82 (2025)