Elvis, the King and I

Amanda Nowakowski

That year, in Tennessee, in 1975,

Elvis called from the red river

and all the girls heard.  Mrs. Jones,

the fifth grade teacher, wore

hot pants to school.  I went home

to  the step-dad with vodka

in a locked fridge,

and a mom who tested

to divine my gifts.  I had

no friends.  Elvis might

understand, but he liked

the Cutex nails and halter tops,

Mrs. Jones and the girls

squealing in dumb rapture

while I read a book in the back

of the room. Heaven squandered

its gold on the girls who giggled

with the teacher as Elvis sang, sweated,

swayed and lurch, and never let on

that he was in trouble, too. 

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Amanda Nowakowski grew up in rural East Tennessee, attended the University of Tennessee, and earned a PhD in Slavic Languages and Literatures from UCLA.  She resides in California with her husband and two daughters, and she is the Chair of the English Department at Viewpoint School in Calabasas.  Her poetry has been published in The International Poetry Review, The Chattahoochee Review, Poetry/LA, The Red Rock Review, The Mochila Review, The White Pelican Review, The Jacaranda Review, and The Coe Review. 

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