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You dressed like a clown and surprised us all,
wobbling in your size-twelve shoes, across front lawns,
toward Seventh Street and back.
Twice you snorted jokes through your Rudolph nose
(How many heathen does it take to screw in a light bulb? . . . )
and set our stomachs twitching.
That night I liked you lots:
your cheeks puffing with popcorn balls,
your lips smacking on apples,
your fingers stiff from doorbell-poking.
Ten minutes till curfew, you collected our Woolco sacks
and multiplied them like fishes.
From Weeknights At The Cathedral (WordTech 2006).
Used with the author’s permission.
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Marjorie Maddox is Professor of English and Creative Writing at Lock Haven University. At the age of 8, Marjorie published her first poem in Campfire Girls Magazine. Eleven books and six chapbooks later, she still loves writing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction, and children's literature. Her forthcoming works include Wives' Tales (Seven Kitchens Press), her first short story collection, What She Was Saying (Fomite Press), and a middle grade biography, A Man Named Branch, the True Story of Baseball's Great Experiment (Zing!) about her great granduncle Branch Rickey, general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, who helped break the color barrier by signing Jackie Robinson. Learn more about Marjorie at www.marjoriemaddox.com.
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