VISIONS OF BEING UNATTACHED

Once sailing my ship alone

I picked up a drinking man

in a tomato t-shirt who

designed summer clothes.

He showed me his sketches

over a MaiTai and after some talk

he said he could see me someday humping a pillar

hoping to get it out and

put it back.

I said I'd been there before

and don't things ever change.

In a canoe alongside

we spotted a naked man rowing.

I said 'Love sails o'er the

waves in your hair.'

$

He said my spine is the runway

for birds of love

tossed into flight with the

thrust of my thighs.'

So we took him aboard.

We sailed past the Mountain

of Flowers during dinner,

lobster and lemon cake, and blossoms that

neck-tied the clouds.

And the designer reported

'there is no life without green plants.'

The rower mused

that he wanted to own land

and be the nucleus of great space.

I said that would be nice

if you had a dog to walk

but I'd also house myself

with wise men to watch

and a happy woman to joke with.

Susan Klein

IT WAS GOOD.

SIMPLY GOOD.

WE LOVED AS WE COULO.

POETRY

B.

I remember wanting to have Strong hands, Mother's hands. Brown, veined, muscular hands. Hands that were everyone's Lean-to.

Hands that bore a circular track of a well worn band.

Fingers which held mine and wove our history through their intertwining.

Hands of a thousand women Standing between fathers and sons And feeding us all.

YOU TAUGHT ME TO LOVE AGAIN.

(I DO BELIEVE THAT)

YOU GAVE ME LONELINESS.

WHAT I GAVE YOU

I GUESS I'LL NEVER KNOW

Braid Plaiting Hands.

BUT YOU GREW LIKE A FLOWER TOWARD THE SUN.

IT WAS GODD.

SIMPLY GODD.

WE LOVED AS WE COULD.

ONLY THE WORDS STOP,

HELEN

Merry O.

THE RATIONAL HYSTERECTOMY

She came before Jehovah.

He was wearing His jeweller's eyeglass

to examine a jar of jellybeans.

You came just in time

said His Lordship of Sweets.

Guess how many this jar holds.

Lord, I'm full of sorrow.

So..?

I can't relate to man.

Jehovah whipped out his detective badge:

He had you perform unnatural acts?

No She said,

He said,

Before we make love

get it through your head

I'll never love you.

Well

said the Arch-Gynecologist.

In cases like this

we simply take out the womb.

He picked up His appointment book.

This afternoon? At two?

Arlene Stone

STARFISH,

SKIN

LIKE A BEADED PURSE,

SOFT TO THE HAND'S HEEL,.NOT

TO THE FINGERTIP.

YOU SUCK ON SHELLS, YOUR MOUTH YOUR EYE

BETWEEN YOUR LEGS.

YOU ARE ALWAYS LOSING

LEGS AND REPLACING THEM.

MY EYES ARE SOMEWHERE

INSIDE. MY BOOY,

TWO LIDS, CLAMPEO SEAMLESS.

CONCENTRIC OVALS, (GROWTH LINES

FINE AS WATER MARKS ON DRIED SAND)

COULD HAVE TOLD YOU SOMETHING:

BUT YOU WERE BUSY LOOKING FOR A HOLE.

MEREDITH HOLMES

A thousand rounded bosoms have leaned over this same stone wall reaching for the buckets. Women have always come and sent their daughters. Blouses, kerchiefs, faces age and slowly change

as have the narrow paths worn between dirt walls winding to the open square where the wind blows skirts into wide arching cones.

They smile seeing each other there and waiting their turns

share their lives in whispered tales of the kitchen, the bed,

and the young boys they all have known growing up, growing old. Giggling bold and shy, each adds an incident, a joke, a gesture and winds the winch.

Taunt muscles beneath skin flaccid and firm draw water from cool depths to the wet, sun sparkling ledge.

Straightening strong limbs before receiving the water's weight,

they catch a moment's breeze or remember another time before parting return to their homes and the men who touch their thighs and draw out excited visions of the well.

Lynn Jansen

We print unsolicited manuscripts! If you have a poem you would like to share (or see in print!) send a copy to: Jackie Wessel, P.O. Box 18072, Cleveland Heights, Ohio, 44118. Write your name and address after each poem. Be sure you have a copy of your own; we can't return manuscripts. We would like it if you could include a brief explanation of who you are and how you heard of us. Possibilities for future poetry pages are, a poetry centerfold, features of one poet, and a workshop page. Please let us hear your questions, reactions, ideas, etc. Thanx.

page 4/What She Wants/November, 1974