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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