I chose her for her Daniel Boone eyes
Tense, but sharp at something beyond the dust.
Her wide strong mouth turned down
Too strong for bitterness.
Her blond children standing
One at each shoulder, hiding
Their faces in their hands
Like angels weeping on a marble statue.
Contrast of straight and curly hair.
Her frayed blouse,
Her check shirt,
I made an emblem of the time and people
An American woman
Dispossessed, and travelling westward.