Theresa

She hears a strange whisper, the sound of a removal van, thinks of all her sisters, each move smoother now, no one faults her tan, in every room she’s known, wears a plastic hair clip, bars are full of men, happy off their last trip, they rise like supernova, walks the streets with them, among sea green clover, barefoot prays for hips, her dancing days are done, will miss the Tango dips, rather than having fun, to find this new drum, wonders if she’s driven, if he'll ever come ?