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A POEM: The New Woman

She is switch-blades cut

To-the-thin

Vintage satin ball gowns with hacked-to-short-hems

She is Quant on Ecstasy.

 

She is a rose in an old time movie.

Black to the Heart.

Not evil, as such, but full

Of complicated emotions like lust

And envy.

 

She is a Turn of the Century Designer

Introducing mourning garb to Day Wear.

She is not giving a fuck

Smoking like a train

Sleeping with Russian aristocrats

 

But after, lying in the silk of the night

She wonders

About The Lost Princess

And whether she is still alive.

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