you always wanted that mannequin

April 3, 2007

You always wanted that mannequin. The one
from the charity shop, cheap and battered,
just a torso and head, but somehow

complete. I bought you the silver wedding dress instead;
you desired that equally, but it didn’t fit you.

You loved it still and hung it on your wall
like the wraith of a mirror, and when you were drunk
you’d put it on and dance with your head
held as rigid as a ruler, then fall

legless, arms lost in fabric, body still
in twilight, curves as hard as nutshells.

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9 Responses to “you always wanted that mannequin”

  1. Dave Bonta said

    A really satisfying ending – amkes we want to re-read the poem (always a good thing).

  2. I like that. Its very immediate.

  3. […] mother’s slim hands vanishing into blurred velvet her compound bird-span wings disguised as eyes in twilight, curves as hard as nutshells and beyond, the bright flying splinters of the stars they shower onto the earth to house its want […]

  4. Hi. Er, purely coincidence I can assure you. I hadn’t read your poem. It is odd that ‘twilight’ comes before the nutshells in both though, that’s spooky.

  5. Oh, wait, you mean your poem is made up of last lines? I am dense today.

  6. JLB said

    I love your cadence Endlessly. 🙂

    PS – You’re my “third” encounter with mirrors in as many minutes.

  7. Need some more poems please.

  8. 🙂 . Sorry, I’ve not been writing lately, thanks for the spur, I needed it. Hope you like the new one and I’ll try to keep them coming.

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