Of Style And Stigma

Madam had a pink felt coat

Pink of a baby under scarlet

Fever, with a trembling lower

Lip, soothed never

Brushed never

By mother’s breast

She wore it to bed

From bed to bed

It kept away the cold, she said

Of beds

Packed like snow

Sheeted in ice

It holds in the sounds and fluids

Of their crack and thaw

Saliva semen sweat sanity sentiments

Sap of life; soaked

Madam had a warm smile

Capable of immense melt

Like a freshet of musical light

Pure Pour Femme

She was like a slender grey cloud, bold beaut!

Drifting across the sea of sky

With silver sails

Of life’s lilt

And sunny dreams

She loved her coat

With its crinkled hemline and back vent and sleeves

Like earlobes of

Alpha males

And She,

The Eve of their eves

Its every embrace sloughed her off her old self

Drawing her closer to the ghost of her future

Happy hollow holy ghost

Awaiting release

Madam had a pink felt coat

Pink of a baby under scarlet fever

Under which

Guarded and belted

She felt truly

Felted