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The Web Poetry Corner - Hay Machine - A Poem for Grown-Ups

A Poem for Grown-Ups

by

Hay Machine



The conflict rage of loves and rights
of high-heeled maids
in seam-filled tights
their right of passage
here assured
lipstick smeared
the skirt coutured

The style and scent of Lolabrigida
engineered flesh
draped in silver silk taffeta
hair in a candyfloss heap on her head
moves on stiletto
and nothing is said
except in the nostrils of women and men
who think of her juices
and promise of them

Beautiful Lady Marilyn Monroe
from your silver-haired head
to your apricot toe
filling that dress like a salmon its skin
fruit from the painting
and luscious within
carved by the Gods
to your Heavenly breast
wrapped in your vestments
the mistress undressed

NEXT?
Why don't you look at AQUELA MULHER É MINHA MÃE
by: Ivone Boechat
from: Niterói, RJ, Brazil

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