Traci L. Gregory


A new blue suit
Tailored and smooth
Buttons at full shine
Stiff lapels salute the masses
Pants pressed creases
To appropriate ridges
All of it merely material
A carnival sideshow to conceal
The truth
No business suit
Can hide the fear of not fitting in
Not slipping seamlessly back
In the urban ranks
A tortured few
Rejected by the placid many

Locks of grey
Cascading from eyebrow’s corner
For destinations
Far behind
Fine lines, deep grooves
Whittle the forehead
All of it merely show
A façade of years to camouflage
The truth
No signs of age or wisdom of years
Can hide the youth
Captured long ago in Southern heat
Told to kill, become a number
Faraway to a land
You brought your childhood

A fair haired aging bride
A constant soul
Canary colored sundress drapes
Round hips
Slender fingers intertwine
Your support
All of it merely fragile
A platform eager to collapse upon
The truth
No lifelong mate
Can hide the loneliness
Blackness of not understanding
Empty spaces where brothers were
And only you remain