Somehow

Somehow

Pale American girls who would have come
Here to Rome on the Grand Tour
The sun driving bright nails flat into their red hair
Are here now and also in 1887 when
They were hovered over by immense mothers
Who sneezed while powdering their bosoms
And complained when no one blessed them
(Their fathers let them get away with anything)
Once back home they’d be married off
To men ten years older
Men who’d learned a thing or two
In the brothels of say Bristol
All of it something straight out of Henry James
Who knew them in fact or girls like them
Holding in their pale hands fans that opened
To show pleated scenes of demur geishas
Who sat still as statues in boxes at the opera
Freckles thick as stars on shoulders
He wouldn’t see until their wedding night
Whispering My God I am not worthy to come
Under your roof but only say the word and
Yet somehow here they also are in 2024
Their fans have turned into the phones
They open at every intersection
The same sun hammering at their red hair