A bit of a departure from this blog’s focus, but thought I’d share a poem I wrote recently.
Jacqueline was heavy artillery.
Reserved for behavior so awful
Mom hauled out first, middle and last.
Except in fourth grade, when we had
three Jackies in our class and I got stuck
with Jacqueline. I wasn’t quite as unhappy
as that air base boy from the South.
Jack was way too Yankee for his liking.
The rest of the time I was Jackie. Most people
thought I was named for the First Lady
but they were all wrong. Mom’s love
was closer to home. She named me
for a girl she babysat.
Dad was different.
He always called me Jake.
I knew I’d been away from home too long
when he greeted me with Jackie
at the front door.
PHOTOGRAPH: The author as a young girl.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: It’s funny how this call for submissions got me thinking about my three very…
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