"After several Valium and a cup of coffee, I
feel sweet and contented. The city is dangerous,
prurient, and I am a woman of mystery. I ask
the waitress for some napkins and whisper,
My husband's brains are in my hands. I ask her
to regard the blood and tissue, the horror of my
dress. I am wearing tinted sunglasses, a chiffon
scarf, patterned with lemons and cherries.
My wig, my hair is concealed, it really is awful,
a cerise-coloured rat's nest and it itches, badly.
When I leave, I move smoothly through the streets,
clutching my shopping bags; I fit my key into
the lock and gaze at my calling card, that reads:
Skirt, my pretty name."
(lynn crosbie - skirt, my pretty name (r.))