POET

Eleanora Blossoms into Billie Holliday

By M. E. Wood

Little Eleanora crouches in a corner
unseen by everyone except me. Men and
women around her laugh, dance and
carry on in this little house of “ill repute.”
Little Eleanora is all smiles, entranced not
by what she sees but by the vocal strengths
of Louis Armstrong and Bessie Smith
thundering from my victrola. Some day
my little errand girl will break from her
shy seedpod, grow up and blossom into a
sweet-smelling gardenia, become her own
“Lady Day” on the airwaves for other little
girls hiding in corners mesmerized by
the dream of soul and jazz desires.

*published in Sol Magazine / February 2004
Commented On

COMMENTS: The image of the crouching child allegorically captures the smothered talents of so many African-Americans whose accomplishments lie buried in unwritten histories. The metaphor of the blossoming flower is a reliable symbol for potential eventually realized.