
The women in my family are afraid of many things.
They rarely leave their homes.
They don’t work
even when their husbands barely make enough to get by.
They don’t drive.
They are panicked by the thought of being seen.
There is a lot of television in their days.
Little girls gather in the dark,
chant in mirrors and wait
for a woman from the other side
to appear.
I am the rebel in my family.
I buy a one way train ticket
across the country
and never look back.
My grandpa proudly states,
“That girl has balls of steel.”
I expect great things of myself.
I believe in Mary Worth.
I believe in Mary Worth.
The women in my family are buried
along side Resurrection Mary,
the most famous ghost in Chicago.
People often see her
hitching rides outside Resurrection Cemetery,
pacing up and down Archer Avenue.
Always pacing, primping, waiting.
Bloody Mary, please appear
Bloody Mary, please appear
Resurrection Mary,
(Mary Bragovy)
was killed in a car wreck
on her way home from the dance hall.
Rising from the ashes of the totaled car,
rising in her long white party dress
smoothing the wrinkles
pinching her cheeks for color
rising to look for the boy she just kissed.
Hail Mary, full of grace
The Lord is with thee.
I believe in Mary, Mother of God
Queen of all the Angels and Saints
whirling, swirling, sweeping
across the dance floor
lovely, alive, desired
rising, floating above the city
watching over me in her long, white dress.
I believe in Mary Richards,
you're going to make it after all!
I expected great things of myself.
But I like to stay home.
I’m not a good employee.
I am Mary,
Queen of Heaven.
I am the moon where God has hidden himself.
It is deep within me that our Father
keeps His own light.
It is in the darkest depths
of your own souls
that you will find my mysteries revealed.
I am 41 now and feel like a little girl.
I marvel at my adequate paychecks, still.
Daily, I am amazed that I have a home,
a daughter, a dog who depend solely on me
and that I can do what must be done
as I pace, I primp, I wait.


Salon.com
Comments
Rated.
I have read this several times and each time, my own imagination tries to steal away ... I like that - the challenge of what you have created.
I'm struggling how to shape my material more for the page than the stage, so it is fascinating to me that you heard those other voices even though I didn't include them. I have many bits of songs, fairy tales, rhymes throughout everything I write but unsure of when to include (or if I should just go back to theater & forget it!)
I remember going to Polonia Grove on Archer in the late 50's and very early 60's.
They always had several bands playing, lots and lots of beer and pretty Polish girls.
Never saw Mary though.