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Re: Dorothy, by Alfred Kreymborg 

Dear Alfred,

I am not what you think.

I. My Eyes
I open my lids that hold
tar coated feathers—
they bat to protect these chocolate
eyes—richer, thanks to lilac shimmer and black kohl.
(your body responds to each blink)

II. My Lips
I spread
my supple lips
over pearls
that flash
whiter next
to mica
filled crimson
layer upon layer
close to d r i p p i n g
(your anticipation is palpable)

III. My Hair
I pull the band restraining
wild waves of espresso
until they cascade
falling out of the
easy style
(your hands wish to soak here)

IV. My Neck
I clasp
The string near my nape
pearls go with everything
they travel
around to my collar
so close
to these elegant/bony
This is where it all happens.
This is where my body meets
its friends
its enemies:
style and history.
(you love them both…on me)

V. My Body
I hold my head
atop my
holding up an evening frock
all this to be undone
by the end of the night

I am woman
I am ready.

  • A poem by Molly Lurie-Marino.


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