By Kae Chatman
For J.D.
We declare victory every evening
When the stars consolidate
Over our Italian patio
The fire pit inspires gypsy mandolins
Wine paints my tongue navy blue
I turn to you, all girlish
Your hair and eyes glamorous
Whimsical, amorous
A pin-up from the 1940s
Painted on a B-52 would be
Jealous of your rounded thighs
I could face Mussolini
Armed only with a postcard from liberated Paris
Smudged with your lipstick
Kae Chatman is a poet, veteran, and former university professor. Born in New York City and raised in Arkansas, Kae joined the military in 1976 and specialized in Army Intelligence, during which time she received an Army Commendation Medal. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Wichita State University, and an MA and PhD in Philosophy from Kansas University. Kae has taught at Philander Smith College and the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, among others. She still lives in Arkansas with her wife and beautiful dachshund.
