wipe dust from
the golden stopper
clunky little bottle
ignored since last October
shake well
hear the ball-bearing-click
as swirls of cream and carmine
blend in female ritual
slightly stuck,
a rind of pink plastic
peels away from the rim
that artificial smell
makes me remember
last summer
winter’s gone
in warmth I sit
and paint my toe nails
<Deleted User> (7212)
Sun 10th Apr 2011 14:39
aren't you s'posed to be writing me poem ?
(not painting yer nails)
Ann, it is a pleasure to know you. Any poetry that makes a reader feel so connected to the poet is AMAZING. I especially love the layers of ideas implied, on purpose or not,
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Rachel McGladdery
Mon 11th Apr 2011 07:09
Beautiful beautiful beautiful, I agree with Cynthia on the connection. This is *such* a feminine ritual, your poem takes me back to the first time I ever messed with my sister's nail varnish (and got told off), my tiny girl is going through the 'nail barnish' phase right now, I wanna read this to her and I wanna paint my toenails now. x