- Non-Erotic Poetry
- pink gown
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with a single ribbon
the pink gown closes in the front
signature color and gaped fabric
invite eyes
look, look at my breasts
we sit on soft vinyl benches
page through people magazines
golden globe gowns
we are braless
loose without armor to smooth
lift separate counter gravity
skin of breast
touches skin of chest
we wait for compression
hand tightened turning
radiation
how quickly she confides
there are calcifications in my breast tissue
I do not know what this means
calcium migrates to cancer
she tells me
the outline of her nipples
show through the loose gown
point slightly to her knees
another confection joins us
asks if we are allowed to wear jewelry
answers herself in the same breath
trying not to look at us
we look like overgrown girls
we look like magnetic ribbons
on the trunk of a lexus
it is my first time
I just want to leave my breasts here
and go home
I never wear pink
none of us do
- COMMENTS
cherries_on_snowalmost 18 years agoThis was amazing and powerful. My mother died of breast cancer with complications and this so spoke to me, Anna. You made me cry. But a good cry. Thanks.
Anonymousabout 18 years agoThe most touching poem I've ever read. So dainty yet
dangerous. Be very proud of this. sand
Bill Dadaabout 18 years agoI have read this poem for every day since it was first posted and can't think of anything to say about it. It is so powerfully unsettling.
Anonymousabout 18 years agoI loved getting to it, the tightly packed beauty in these short lines.
Earlier, I felt like the omission of subjects and punctuation sometimes didn't serve your fine language, did not allow the amazing little images to pop out of the lines as they deserve to (as, of course, the subject pops out.)
Love, however, the juxtaposition of the objectified breast and the cancerous one. I love it when a poem disconcerts us like this, makes us reflect back on our own position as gazers.
Lil' Min
LeBrozabout 18 years agoVery powerful stuff here.
I read this early in the am,
About four or five times
And drew several images;
This can't be right - my brain's turned to mush.
After a good night's sleep,
Half through the day,
I read it again and now see what I missed.
Especially struck by the image of self-consciousness in the waiting room, of not making eye contact. Aloneness in a room with other people.
The only part that doesn't seem quite right is:
"we look like overgrown girls
we look like magnetic ribbons
on the trunk of a lexus"
Perhaps:
"we look like overgrown girls
or worse, like magnetic ribbons
on the trunk of a lexus"
