Maidens
Finally, a restaurant in our rural town
that isn’t local and family owned
a chain restaurant
something our parents say
like it’s a dirty word
which only adds to the allure
frantic excitement
inside the VW Bug
my friend wheels
into the lot of Pizza Hut
A day already mind blowingly cool
she passed her driver’s test
on the first attempt and now
we are going out for dinner
to a place with red plastic soda glasses
red and white checkered tablecloths
aroma of garlic, new carpet
salad bar, novelty of help yourself
so many options
ham cubes, grated cheese
croutons, bacon bits
dressings to be ladled
to heart’s desire
A perfect day like our lives will be
what could be more promising than us
in our sparkly tube tops and painter pants
Kissing Potion Roller Ball Lip-Gloss
Love’s Baby Soft Cologne
Frye boots, Monet gold hoops
Utopia just before it isn’t
before the pierce of bitter bullets
two girls, frozen, plates suspended
over lettuce in a salad bar basin
writhing with warning and worms
The Worst Part
After gym in middle school
we had to line up naked
wait our turn to shower
while our teacher took roll
pad and pencil in hand
her side grin infuriating
the whole spectacle amused her
She looked us up and down
worse for those with breasts
humble buds no longer
girls sprouting weird, curly hair
between their legs
If you had your period
you were excused
we all tried to have ours
every other week
never got away with it
Eyes glued to our feet we stepped
into a sterile green room
lined with silver faucet heads
porcelain floor tiles slippery as ice
water fell loud as thunder
it was like an execution
No one spoke
except that teacher
who barked orders
harsh as a dog
trapped in a tunnel
Wash under your armpits!
One girl never had to join in
though she needed a bath
rumor was her family
couldn’t afford hot water
that as a baby
she’d been horribly burned
in a house fire
Hands scarred
fingernails missing
skin on her forearms
like wavy, maroon leather
as her torso must have been
she sat on a scratched-up
locker room bench
as bad off as she was
to watch us shower
nothing but pure hatred
screaming from her eyes
Burial Day Elkland Friends Meetinghouse Shunk PA
Ashes for damp, black holes
parents, brothers, set down deep
the sun’s slanted tears
My forest cousins
wide arms, carved hearts, our circle
of tall, tender trees
Refill earth’s sweet mouths
tamp soil, hold hands, goodbye dead
hawks overhead swoop and swirl souls
I look back once to woods
sky globe large, grey squirrels, golden bees
my family swallowed, healed
Afterward at lunch
coffee and ham sandwiches, General Store
no one is afraid to laugh
Virginia Watts is the author of poetry and stories found in The MacGuffin, Epiphany, CRAFT, The Florida Review, Reed Magazine, Pithead Chapel, Eclectica Magazine among others. She has been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. Her debut short story collection Echoes from the Hocker House was a category finalist in the 2024 Eric Hoffer Book Awards, selected as one of the Best Indie Books of 2023 by Kirkus Book Reviews, and won third place in the 2024 Feathered Quill Book Awards. Please visit her at https://virginiawatts.com/
Chantarelle's Notebook 