Try: it is hard to be content, the arches in the feet having collapsed, the curves in the spine having reversed, the bones having lost their density. It calls for an exoskeleton, a silken panoply, a dream of escape, the plaid of dismay, the linen of engagement, the armor of certainty.
The mind afflicted and the mind that inflicts. Inflects.
In the poems there is a lot of white cotton, which is the equivalent of a fig leaf. A sign of disarming honesty. But in the world, I want to be a little more coy. A little more textured and a lot more stiff. Grosgrain, corduroy, wool. I don't want anyone to know anything. I want everything to know everything.
So I'm going to wear this hat that women haven't worn in half a century–borrow a little more of your time, if I may.
The mind afflicted and the mind that inflicts. Inflects.
In the poems there is a lot of white cotton, which is the equivalent of a fig leaf. A sign of disarming honesty. But in the world, I want to be a little more coy. A little more textured and a lot more stiff. Grosgrain, corduroy, wool. I don't want anyone to know anything. I want everything to know everything.
So I'm going to wear this hat that women haven't worn in half a century–borrow a little more of your time, if I may.
Bio: Yvette Thomas is a recent alumna of Columbia College Chicago. She is featured in Starting Today: 100 poems for Obama's First 100 Days. She has also been published in elimae and 27 rue de fleures and has work forthcoming in Columbia Poetry Review. She lives in Cleveland and blogs semi-regularly at transballad.
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