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Now the Barbaras have begun to die,
trailing their older sisters to the grave,
the Helens, Margies, Nans—who said goodbye
just days ago, it seems, taking their leave
a step or two behind the hooded girls
who bloomed and withered with the century—
the Dorotheas, Eleanors and Pearls
now swaying on the edge of memory.
Soon, soon, the scythe will sweep for Jeanne
and Angela, Patricia and Diane—
pause, and return for Karen and Christine
while Susan spends a sleepless night again.
Ah, Debra, how can you be growing old?
Jennifer, Michelle, your hands are cold.
This poem first appeared in THE FORMALIST, issue 11.2 (2000).
Used here with the author's permission.
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Marilyn L. Taylor became Poet Laureate of Wisconsin in November, 2008. Her award-winning work has appeared in many journals and anthologies, and she is also the author of six individual collections of poems. Marilyn taught for many years at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and was appointed in 2004 to a two-year term as Poet Laureate of Milwaukee. She continues to lead workshops locally, statewide, and as a visiting poet at universities and libraries in Iowa, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Florida, California, Colorado, Oregon, and elsewhere. She is a Contributing Editor for THE WRITER magazine, where her columns on craft appear bi-monthly. More information and more poems can be found on her website, www.mlt-poet.com.
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