Owens, Elisabeth, R. (ed.) / Encore: more of parallel press poets
McDermott, Sharon F.
What for the women poets, pp. 40-42
What For the Women Poets 1. Virginia, we are welcome in the syntax now. No tweedle-dum or tweedle-dee to take away our rights to eat a peach or strike pins to gutters in the alleys. Grass grows beneath our feet within the libraries. Still the old rage glints like sun on spoons. We ladle boiled broth in green tureens and sup: (there are sesame seeds on crackers; lemon wedges in the water; cubes of Monterey Jack and triangles of Brie.) All the geometry of eating though we've got a handle on that, too. We're post-fork. We've simply stopped. We're thin as dermis, thin as phylo. And still we want to say something. 2. Here's the bra I spill out of; here's the thong between my cheeks. I'm still the same dress-undress- able daughter. Even Vanna found a job to fit her wardrobe: I'm in letters, she might murmur. I put pressure on the vowels. 3. Hostess, hostess, moon is now a party favor, decorative, discrete. Can't talk of pansies, rose or foxglove-pabulum sentiment! Mother of our mothering. And when we return to moon, we're reminded of his footsteps-Wordsworth, Byron-in the craters, flagged, quantified, don't tread on me. 4. And to the male poet who said, woman, you don't need a book as much as me because you have a child, I say- And to my peer who said your poems won't speak untilyou write cunt and prick in them, I say-- 40
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