PoetryMagazine.com
Naomi Ruth Lowinsky
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BOTTOMLESS
I knew you from
another time
that temple—the dancing god
his blue feet…
When you arrived on Geary Street—
stepped out of the afternoon
through red curtains
into the sleaze of that bar—
You had forgotten all that
But even here, chatting up the salesmen
from Kansas, watching their crotches swell
Even here, swinging your mango breasts
making sacred circles
to George Harrison’s sitar
Beating the stage
with Bharatnatyam feet
Lifting your arms
to blue Krishna, red spotlight
Even here with the salesmen shouting
“Take it off! Take it all off!”
In this overwhelm of bad champagne
where carpet sucks
and the moon has been
Forgotten--I
remember you
Joy
Maiden
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© Copyright, 2012,
Naomi Ruth Lowinsky.
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