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SHJ Issue 6
Fall 2012

[Two Poems]

by Andrea Potos

For My Friend Who Called Me Fuddy-Duddy

for not wanting Vagina!
shouted on my Facebook wall,

I confess
I have never been the one

to stand in the town square
with my bra strap smoldering.

And even in summer I wear socks.
I like my toes tucked in,

as I like my dresses falling nearly to my ankle,
rippling and swirling behind me

and around me like a river
where the most beautiful stones
are covered with water lit by sun.


It Happens in Italy

that evening we veered
off the Piazza il Campo
(where the fountain’s water
still rises from
some ancient acqueduct),

down the medieval,
cobbled alley where
we found
the atelier shop—
in the window, a gown

the Queen of Swans
must have left
behind, a promise
or a wish
for some human
to behold. My daughter,
who wears plaid shirts
and skinny jeans, who favors

no boy at 15, stared
into the glass, turned
to me: Mom,
I will be married in that dress.


SHJ Issue 6
Fall 2012

Andrea Potos

is the author of four poetry collections, including Yaya’s Cloth (Iris Press, 2007), and We Lit the Lamps Ourselves, just published from Salmon Poetry in Ireland (August 2012). Her work appears in many journals and anthologies, including Poetry East, Wisconsin Review, Women’s Review of Books, Southern Poetry Review, and Atlanta Review. She lives in Madison, Wisconsin with her husband, daughter, and a cockapoo named Penny.

“...we have been born here to witness and celebrate. We wonder at our purpose for living. Our purpose
is to perceive the fantastic. Why have a universe if there is no audience?” — Ray Bradbury