Gooseturd green. Not moss, not leaf,

instead the green left by the pond’s lifting geese

those graceful birds that break the spring settled pond-pollen glassine surface;

a glassy marble of water ~ amber and polished pear,

some reflection of my own dappled linden eyes:

they so hungrily move over what they see.

Today, in the window, the empire waisted dress, that green.

How I savored the feeling of the dress-maker’s marked ribbon

as she moved beneath my breasts.

The velvet fabric that lifted there, that which fell in such gentle drapes

falling straight and in pleats to the high arch of my feet

as I stood en pointe.

Allow me - give me - this time to pretend;

one moment to catch my reflection in the silver-backed looking-glass;

that auburn-haired girl with the heath-flushed cheeks,

these ginger-dot freckles above, below the collarbone.

Allow me to believe there is a “Jude” –

Distant lover waiting at the other end of the cross-county line.

Send him telegraph at once:

Love, I come to you new dressed, draped.

I come at your call, roses in my cheeks.

I come barefoot and running,

Delicate in the moment.