Esther Williams Look A Like Poem by Bernard Henrie

My mother was good looking and once
presented a trophy to winning rowers
on the St. Charles.

Dalton China complexion, single strand
of pearls given by a deep sea diver;
Borsalino slouch hat for fun; her pleasure
in kissing games; the unfinished romance
novel she was writing.

She taught me makeup, hair coloring,
how to promise without delivering.

Ramp of a Catalina sea plane, red car
with no top; her lips just slightly
parted, ocean breeze ruffling the bangs
shimmering on her forehead.

Twenty years, I still see her sunburned
torso in a one-piece swim suit poised
at the edge of expanding nightfall.

The silver revolver on her nightstand.