I made my life an art, a career;
A gold star among black skies glowing
******-red.

I was his queen. Still am, though
He kept women in our bedroom closet while I wept.
I was delicate back then.

But Page Six and The Times had me
on my toes. Marilyn, Marlene, Judith - Dave Powers running
a knife down from my crown to my hips, brushed it off with a hair flip.

Young Marilyn wants my crown.
Young Marlene wants my money.
Young Judith wants my soul.

I let Marilyn take my crown; I don’t want blood on my sleeve -
I let Marlene take my money; I don’t care for empty parties -
I let Judith take my soul; I lost it along the way with all

the drinks and doleful dinners - a banquet with this
man and that Duke, and the other dunce from that foreign country
in the South China Sea because we have agreements here and there and everywhere.

Marilyn can have Saigon for all I care.
Marilyn can stain the White House red with blood; bombed and bucketed
with orange flares.

She can take my man to share,
She can rip me to shreds with diamond fingers tearing at Jack’s coat;
Loving, lusting, shaking, shivering - daring.

But she can never take away my wedding day.
She can never scrub away his sticky blood
on my pink tweed ’till I lay to rest beside him.