To Beauty Pageant Judges
No stitch mark or discerned stitches,
nor pockmarked skin that shows or snitches,
this gloried miss is free from glitches
deserving crown you could install.
The scars she bears are all inside,
her bio skips the nights she cried
mute victim of her parent’s pride,
no sadder star can you recall.
As Queens need more than pretty faces
she’s well rehearsed in social graces
with perfect smile, rescued from braces,
segued amid her demure drawl.
You have the power to place them first,
or send them back, their bubble burst,
left to wonder, were they the worst
and not the fairest of them all.
Gerald Bosacker, Poet and tale teller lives in Arkansas, retired from the corporate
world where he was miscast as Vice President of a large chemical company. He now does penance
for his sins against the environment with his anti-war activism and poetry.
Email: Gerald Bosacker
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