Betsy Ross’ Girl Poem by Deborah Turner
Tried to put in some orchid purple yellow, and some coffee colored brown like my fingers I pricked helping with all her stichin. “Nah,” she say, “keep it like the Brits, our forefathers.” None of that tobacco green she threaten to put me in should I open my mouth bout how Master have his way with me. None of that sunrise orange come over the water like my Mammy’s boat done. Just the blood red with the deep blue and the white stars like the night that swallowed up my daddy took him north to freedom, I hope.
In addition to writing poetry, Deborah Turner is working on a memoir about her life in West Philadelphia. Her early works appear in the Lavender Reader as well as in anthologies including the Body Eclectic and Testimony. She regularly blog publishes at www.deborahturner.online.
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5/19/19 9:34 PM
