The Personality of a Hat

Hats have always fascinated me.

Eight Women and a Magic Hat

They sit on the floor
talking of choice,
of a dance on a high wire
where joy digs itself
into marrow.

The hat
rests on Sarah's knees,
her silent hands
near its brim.

Tiring of talk
she tilts the brim,and
pictures herself lassoing rain
with rope braided
out of rattler skins.

Melita takes a turn.
Angling the hat
over one eye
she walks like a barnyard
rooster in high heeled boots.

Mary places the hat
at a rakish tilt.
Her hands
remember a lover.
She feels touch
cross-hatched
under her skin.

Samantha stretches,
holds the hat over her head—
She dances
to a silent beat.
With the hat now riding her hair
she sways with an unseen
partner hewn out
of her dreams.

Ramona wears the hat
on the back of her head.
She walks to vanishing points,
to the ocean's horizon.
She wears a dress of Queen Anne's Lace.

Allison and Rachel
share the hat.
Balancing on a ladder
they juggle lemons.
Tart suns float
between their fingertips.

Lydia is last.
She wraps seashells around the hat,
places it on her black hair—
Laughing, she pours wine
for the others.
It is her turn to wear the hat,
to tell her story.

—Photopoet. A Measure of Gifts