The
Belt In
memory of G.M.P.Miami,
Florida, 1942.For
S.J.E.The second summer after my dad died Mom introduced to us a man she liked. He wore a see-through belt that mystified me. Giggling, Mom said, “You are really ‘psyched’.” He pulled it from his keepers and he let me wrap it twice round mine . . . I peeped through it — it sniffed a little like a cigarette. I gave it back. Round him, it truly fit. Next time he came he wore a plain black belt . . . . Big Sis unwrapped a ‘brooch’, and I a see- through belt like his! It fit! Mom said, “Real svelte, Art-Deco!” Chuckling deeply, he said, “Oui!” “But where is yours?” I gazed in his brown eyes. “Around your waist. I had it cut to size.” Leland Jamieson If you have any comments on this poem, Leland Jamieson would be pleased to hear them. |
