this glorious poem


she’s all round
hips and loose lips and
sibilant spill; full of curves
and nerves and the no
-frills call of the wildebeest.

she’s found
herself in ink and sky,
relies on timbered truth
and marbled wry
humor and toast.

at most, she’s spec
-tacular, shaped in smudge
and skin, beginning to spin
herself into something
slightly in

she may not yet have
unshaped her darkest fears
but at least
she’s here.




In November, we poem.



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1 Response to this glorious poem

  1. rothpoetry says:

    Great descriptions. I can see her as I read!

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