Like A French Woman

I’m lying between celadon hospital walls

under the white coolness of halogen lamps

surrounded by the metal beds, tubes, and syringes

injecting all the nastiness of this world

into my weak, withering, wobbly body

to allow haughtiness being replaced with pride

of who I became against all odds

a woman with iridescent desire in men

so-called jolie-laide

who will bring you a royal breakfast in bed:

croissants

pains au chocolat

barquettes à la fraise

baguette with butter and confiture

le jus d'orange

and chocolate fondant

with a rich selection of fromages

from every region of France

to let you feel joie de vivre

because you’re mon garçon

So, kiss my peach lips

and put your fingers in my chestnut hair blown by the wind

Turn me into blanquette de veau

consumed for dinner

and jog my memory

with the smart book you read

Cover me with sapphire words

and spray me with deep notes of parfum

Find yourself in my flared citrine dress

This is why I am here

with my naked white alabaster arms and le décolleté

asking you to hold on to that

one moment in human history

of hollow laugh

transformed in a storm

with dark blue almost black clouds and a thunder

*

15 May 2021

***

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