Elizabeth Glixman

Spots and Dots on the Fourth of July

Have you noticed the town hall’s paint peeling, the roads full of potholes? Down the street Charlene
has acne and braces, yet smiles. Her elastic bands pop me in the face making craters for the plastic surgeon.
My husband lost three inches in height yesterday. Hair is white falling on arches not triumphant
Can’t do the can can. Can you?

Brown spots dance the polka on my arms.  Sagging flesh waves, swings, saluting in the wind to America
the Beautiful or like Dalmatian puppies frenetic with energy at a July fourth picnic. Boom woof woof whack.
Hands sit with big-knotted periods at unquestioning joints placing mustard on quiet hotdogs.

The landscape shifts. Mildred bought a push up bra and dyed her hair red. I bought a fork lift and tow truck
to keep the mountains in place. Hold your stomach in. Don’t let it go anywhere. Watch out for logs. That is.
My advice.

Elizabeth P. Glixman is a poet, writer and artist. Her publication credits include The Pedestal Magazine, Wicked Alice Poetry Journal, In Posse Review, Small Spiral Notebook, 3 A.M. Magazine, and Journey, a poetry anthology ( Eden Waters Press 2009).Elizabeth’s poetry chapbook A White Girl Lynching was published by Pudding House Publications in 2008.