Confession of a Plain Woman
They cause no sensation, create no stir
heads don’t turn when they enter rooms
and traffic moves smoothly along when they walk by.
plain women—-breasts to small or to large; ‘
hips to wide or not at all, curved in all the wrong places
just not put together quite right.
noses to broad or to narrow, to long or to pug;
lips to thin or to fleshy; less than pretty faces
by Vogue standards
quite forgettable to some, disregarded by others
earthy women designed to comfort and supply
not the kind of women who invoke fantasy
or courtly romance
notably nice enough and known for good works
as they march onward to muted drums
But I, a logical earthy everyday woman
not so special or of elemental mystery;
a plain woman’
misstep the droning cadence
orchestrated for me and claim me to be
perfectly imperfect
defy then and see myself as that hair tossing
smoky eyed vixen, flirty woman
who teases and taunts the victims of her desire;
At times I hunger to be that kind of beautiful
in the eyes of lovers who come my way.
to be that breed of something special;
the sort of woman men would long to pamper
with unrestrained laborious love;
the woman he would gift with bath oils,
perfume and lacy things.
Passions simmer unvoiced to quiet boil,
erupt internally; implode into the heart of me
spin and whirl to the opus of my own sensibilities.
I offer myself to notions born from imagination’s flight
that I too can be a siren of inspiration and sensuality;
and dream me that kind of beautiful
(2003)
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