Pajama Party
Tonight my living room is cluttered
with sleeping bags
and leggy girls,
with whispers and giggles
through the night of my baby's twelfth.
Tomorrow's women
fickle as March's lion
and lamb
-swooning over childish boys they once hated
and will again.
Playing with makeup, they roll
on the lip gloss
and peer into the shine
of dog-eared photos-new foundation
looking back to toothless grin.
Forming a circle
their bodies flow together
in a swift red flannel
dance-the time honored
initiation to unimagined complexity.
Scattered and sprawled these snoring angels
-Keep them tonight at least
safely patch-worked here.