POEMS/ Ode to a Yellow Bathing Suit
Ode to a Yellow Bathing Suit
Ode to a Yellow Bathing Suit
Once you were satin-sleek.
Petite, constructed of three triangles
and braided cord, you had a price tag
worthy of your designer name.
You gleamed canary bright, crackled
electrical with filaments,
and if you’d had a voice, you would have said
“My singing is unique.”
Displayed in the central window
of a shop along a boulevard in Nice,
you were enchanting. Soon you were wrapped
in sequined tissue, purchased
to enhance the well-oiled body
of a butter-stick brunette.
She never got you wet, but you were
never made for swimming,
your perfection lay in your allure.
You loved the way you hugged her breasts
and settled low upon her hips.
Once you felt adored, inspired lust,
Now you lie in tatters
at the bottom of a back street barrel
with others of your kind,
soon to be cast off as obsolete for good.
May you not be forgotten,
your splendor survive forever
in my song.
From Migrations, 2013
Ode to a Yellow Bathing Suit
Once you were satin-sleek.
Petite, constructed of three triangles
and braided cord, you had a price tag
worthy of your designer name.
You gleamed canary bright, crackled
electrical with filaments,
and if you’d had a voice, you would have said
“My singing is unique.”
Displayed in the central window
of a shop along a boulevard in Nice,
you were enchanting. Soon you were wrapped
in sequined tissue, purchased
to enhance the well-oiled body
of a butter-stick brunette.
She never got you wet, but you were
never made for swimming,
your perfection lay in your allure.
You loved the way you hugged her breasts
and settled low upon her hips.
Once you felt adored, inspired lust,
Now you lie in tatters
at the bottom of a back street barrel
with others of your kind,
soon to be cast off as obsolete for good.
May you not be forgotten,
your splendor survive forever
in my song.
From Migrations, 2013