Gold Slippers

from the round rug on the floor, from the dolls propped against the ruffled pillows on the bed. "Here." Betsy picked up a doll. "This one is the prettiest and I want you to have her to play with all day." Ellamae stared at the vision in front of her. Splinters of silver burst from the pink dress that fell in folds around the shiny black shoes. The hair was brown and lay in waves around the perfect, smiling face. "See," Betsy was saying, "her eyelashes are real. Take her and rock her to sleep. I call her Martha Virginia but you can give her any name you like." Ellamae stood frozen. The glitter of the silver thread in the doll's dress held Gold Slippers There was an all-girl flag drill On Red Bird Down at the schoolhouse On the Fourth of July Hoping to really shine I wore my sister's gold slippers She'd brought home from college Carried them down the rocky road And marched in perfect precision With my head held high. But she found out Pitched a whing-ding fit Said I scuffed the heels Madder than a hornet She grabbed those golden slippers And flung them As hard as she could High in the June apple tree I secretly snickered To see ripe red apples And gold slippers Growing on the same tree. One lesson I learned though Never, ever wear A-n-ybody's gold slippers. -Juanita K. Pence her motionless. She could not look up at the gleam of the wavy hair or the endless stare of the blue eyes. "Here," Betsy said again. "She's yours for the whole day. Take her." Ellamae's hands formed tight fists behind her back as she stared at the floor. She shook her head, unable to speak. Betsy thrust the doll toward her. Ellamae turned and ran down the hall and out of the back door. The clouds broke into a cold rain as she found her way down the side of the mountain. Coon was waiting for her beside the gate. She held him, warming him. "We can't go to see the train come in today," she said in his ear. "It ain't really going no place we want to be anyway." The Shelter of the Porch If I stepped from the shelter of this porch into the wind where a clouded sky is waiting to drift down upon the grass, what change would come? The purple flowers have grown more purple, while the roses sway as if in a memory of summer nights when the band played and couples danced under Japanese lanterns. A girl walks over the hill, shoulders forward, hands in her jeans. Her hair moves about her head as if wanting to touch each part of her face. She pulls sunlight after her from between the threatening clouds. The landscape brightens, and leaves rustle. The wind drifts onto the porch, urging me onto the brightening path and into the changes of the world's turning. -Kinloch Rivers 27 ...