Mon Corps est une Tache de Rousseur, et al

Mon Corps est une Tache de Rousseur

Nakedness is often considered “improper”
I like to call it: The Self Conscious Prevail

What if it was all nonchalant…a sort of
Elizabethan feel…
A sort of…intellectual speaking in an escalated voice,

Normal, Nonchalant, Naked, Nudity
Neptune the God whose private parts are all over Google Images

I hide my body from all of you- it is hidden beneath tightly sowed sheep fur, beneath leather that cost a lot of “dough”

The girl with the weave hopes it doesn’t rain
The girl who has issues “down there’ hopes it isn’t warm enough to wear a bathing suit
The girl who hasn’t shaved hopes her masseuse isn’t a man
The woman whose husband stopped loving her a while ago hopes her silk nightgown is clean tonight.

Victoria Secret can make me look like a D cup (did you know that?)
The jelly-padding passes off for “the real thing” before the love making happens and
What they thought was a Hyacinth
Turns out to be half-pollinated dandelion

“We say love making because we are so dissatisfied with our time. We want to go back to a more moral, pure time”- The Knowledgeable Historian comments. The crumbs from her biscuit stand out on her black blouse.

What if you saw me without any clothes on (yes, right here) up against the sunlight?
No- not movie version
Typo’s and all

If everyone walked around naked- would people make more or less friends?

Top Hat

How can I say, “I Love You” in different words?
Results: Do you want a 75% Coupon to TGI Fridays?

Roll eyes, click, *printer noise*


The booth is a sarcastic smile, its painted sheen
Cold against my partly-shaven leg.

One page in a badly written book.

I’m sitting in a booth made for four…
Me: the crumb currently falling from a prisoner’s sandwich.

Sticky patch on table that looks like wood
Try to wipe it off with picnic-table napkin

“Can I please have another napkin?”

The waitress doesn’t hear me, no, she’s at the bar talking to a man

Who has skyscrapers as cheekbones
Whose hands are the roots of Redwoods
And whose voice is as deep

As the guy who invented poetry


I installed wall-to-wall carpeting throughout the interiors of your


Last January.

Deep-sea-diver, you


                          Into the dry ice of my inner conscience.

If the burns twist your face enough, I’ll take care of the


Split Ends

She spoke: her words like newly laid concrete
On the
Avenue of Rejection; Avenue of Despair

Two days: a fling, a joke (the kind no one laughs at)

Two days: a pathetic amount of time, a blown out candle

Two days: twisted stained sheets, the wasted sky

Trying to use a metaphor
Trying to sound poetic…?

Can I please have some crutches
To help me escape from this


Tatiana Dubin
Age 16, Grade 10
Hewitt School
Silver Key

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