Miss-America

….

 

Elbow…el
-bow, wristwristwrist.

She’s waving, and waiting for
a
-trophy
to set in, the shiny golden
numb
-ness of thumb that starts deep
and keeps going.

Her obe(y)sity
is a thing of the past, thin(k)
and oh-be
dient, lack of verifiable body
fat or self
expression in
-tact.

She’s off
yoga
(bursitis)
but her posture and vibration
have no other itis of which
to speak.

Jump the median
and climb on in
to her convertible en
-trap
-ment;
you’ll see her
neuropathy, in fact
is a definite plus.

She waves be
-cause she simply
……………must.

 

 

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3 Responses to Miss-America

  1. Wow. This is sensational. All of it is so clever. I especially like what you did with “obesity” and “think.” The line “She’s off” and the rest of the stanza. The way you split “entrapment” to suggest that the invitation into her vehicle of transport is an intentional trap that you probably can’t begin to resist. If you’re brave enough to get in the car with her, “you’ll see her.” Again, this is an excellent poem.

  2. Well, I’m sure then that you look at those little girl beauty pageants the same way I do.

    I love the beginning – rings so true as to what would be going through her head (wristwristwrist).
    lack of verifiable body fat and self expression – how true.
    And the idea that she needs to have nerve damage in order to endure such a competition.
    Also love the hyphenated title – as if she’s married to America, or the title anyway.
    And the idea that her waving is like a tic of her neuropathy… that’s helping her along.
    I agree – this is excellent!

  3. L-bowel … I just saw that! Awesome. Someone’s gut is pretty twisted up. Now the “wristwristwrist” part makes me think of bulimic hand-thrusting.

    L-bow (as in bending down in a perpendicular sort of way)

    the bowel bow … as in a nasty hair bow

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