If I was not conned,
by one of those who like
to see jaws tense
in reaction to their words,
burnished her leather jacket
with sand paper
to assist her rise to fame.
There is something
in well aged
well cared for leather
that we love.
Perhaps the same cut of psyche
that will not allow
a beloved saint
to become worm meat.
Grace we give
against the corporeal
within our minds.
So if Amelia,
from my peculiar perspective
of one who loves leather,
then her jacket
intimating age and care and wear
was only a PR prop
that said in effect
nothing about her.
Said nothing about her
save Jackie Cochran
may well have been
the better Aviatrix
though we will soon forget her name.
Bill Grace's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Jacket Rumor by Bill Grace )
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