Caroline Herring

Fair and Tender Ladies

You write about a place so dear

In all its good and evil

A loving cup, an aching scar

You need no thread and needle

To sew your name into your clothes

Or hem a ragged line

All muscular and luminous

Oh heroine of mine



Ladies Oh ladies

My ladies

My fair and tender ladies



You raised yourself from mud and spit

And opened up your eyes

Stretching out your graceful limbs

From heart and soul on fire

From sidewalks and handlebars

Summer sun and evening stars

And unincorporated streets

Oh heroine I long to meet



Ladies Oh ladies

My ladies

My fair and tender ladies



Ladies



You set aside your trays and flowers

Like a ball and chain

You understood a time and place

Upon which you proclaimed

Your skirt was not to hide behind

Your womanhood no alibi

You would not live so man could die

Oh white-gloved heroine of mine



Ladies Oh ladies

My ladies

My fair and tender ladies