How she wants it all to mean
something more when she talks
her way in the front door. A broken
nose for a corsage, a coral snake
for a sash, two cork screws for eyes.
She doesn't need to be a star
or even have a mob of one surround her.
She just wants to know
should she be rich or should she be poor?
When the armies of penitence come
to feel up her blouse, Lady
Liberty's arm sticks out bearing note:
He was the jungle and the ballroom
and he might have been the Devil
but he had better lines than God:
The war goes on, friends die,
good weather, my first mistress —
the most desirable woman in Paris —
laid me for the laughter not the heroics.
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Tell us what you think. Email
Tell us what you think. Email talkback@pifmagazine.com
M. Yakich is a poet, translator, and editor currently
based in Memphis, Tennessee.
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