Forgive

Take me, Virginia, bind me close with Jamestown memories of camptown races and ships pregnant with certain cargo and Richmond riding high on greed and low on tedious tides of guilt. But take me on, Virginia, loose your turban of flowers that peach petals and dogwood bloom may form epaulettes of white tenderness on my shoulders and round my head ringlets of forgiveness, poignant as rolled eyes, sad as summer parasols in a hurricane.