Keep calm
and turn eighty-eight
years old
and be admired
by the descendants
of the hardscrabble farmers
and newly-Industrial laborers
who would've rebelled
(or at least stood
on the soapbox
in the center of town
yelling about how unfair
it all was
to a sympathetic crowd
before retiring to the pub)
or the somewhat more
upper-class people
who just happened not to be
too tired to become
a righteous revolutionary mob
in the same day
and did.
Keep calm and be noticed
for your "very kind eyes
with a mischievous glint"
by the photographer
who captured you.
Keep calm and despite
your station
and now mostly-symbolic title
continue to be seen
as a living how-to guide
on the basic traits of womanhood
(and humanhood)
looking good
and taking charge.
This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.
This poem © 2014 Emily Cooper.
