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J e n n i f e r   M a r t e l l i


Orlando Poem


I watch men watch my fourteen-year-old daughter 

         walk by the edge of the pool. 


Her eyes look sidelong at some girls, her age, who 

         watch her sidelong too. 


These girls are with their mothers that no one 

         watches anymore. 


It is so hot here, the heat feels like sheer 

         veiling edged with coins too warm to the touch 

                 wrapped around us all with only eyeholes. 


We count up how many men watch our daughters: oh and the girls 

         are taught no love for each other. 


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