Summer Striptease

Our Lady of the Striptease

she

becomes an angel by intimation

an angle of departure

call on her

at random

when the answer

needs to be atomized

atomized

atomic

breaking chains

disintegration

she

becomes

the unpiecing of form

the distortion of winter

the glare of silk

in the dressing room

she flounces once

in the golding mirror

washes past shadows

for a new wrinkle

to offer her lurching toys

each ruffle in place

nipples rouged ready

pasties perk sparkling

before she climbs the stairs

mounts the stage

runs quick hands

over her waist down

soothe fingers on rhinestones

tests the outline of a dream

plunged into a startling spotlight

our lady

steps on stage

kaboom

the curtain opens

a lace dream vista

behind her

kaboom kaboom

golden ropes

brass chains

silver buckles

shish kaboom

gold gloves peeled

ta ta ta ta booma

pink panties drop

kaboom

the sagging grind

of hips breasts

ta kaboom boomba

held up out

robbed

kaboom

by her own hands

shish kaboom

our lady

the form of a woman

she

holds warmth

constructs life

wishbone purity

snaps

her fingers

eyes

linger

come hither

sleepy shoulder

turns cold

at the wrong rush

of worried air

clouded

thick with mystery

the night’s chocolate

in torn across beds

tumbled searched under

in the look for

the afternoon caress

of roses

brushing one another

as they follow

the sun

our lady

undresses

alone at midnight

slips

silent between unsweetened sheets

our lady

listen to me call

answer me

she

brushes her hair

outside her window

my legs ache

from standing

tiptoe

for so long

untangles her hair

used a black comb

powders her shoulders

her cold white back

arches her leg

scratches her belly

my legs ache

she

dims another light

opens the curtain

a lace wider

dances

the bedroom tango

alone at midnight

slides secretly

between unsearched sheets

she

disappears

the idea of touch

loses contact

the secret caress

hovers

passes as a mist

atomized

unsearched

aching legs

plow home

through the snow

through the clouds

an angel sings

answer me

This version of Our Lady is from 1976. It went through several revisions before this one was considered done, the writing of it may go back to 1974. The one change I made in 2021, beside proof reading, was to move one section to improve flow. It did come to me as a whole piece starting with that title, which is a sardonic play on Catholic reverence – ‘Our Lady’ almost being the same as Saint. There’s also an echo of The Lady of the Lake. Here Striptease is elevated to a sacred art form.

Here, too, is my structural reliance on numbered sections, a lesson learned from T.S. Elliot. I thought it made my poetry look more serious on the page. Section 3 features my interest in sound poetry ‘kaboom kaboom’ as I give Our Lady a drummer for her number. In other pieces I explore this use of sound even further. I don’t think I’ve ever performed this one so I don’t know how the sounds sound 🙂

There is almost a story line as Our Lady prepares, then goes on stage, performs, then relaxes after & goes to bed. We are the audience for this show & the tip-toe observer literally turns the reader from audience into a secret voyeur. The point of view shifts subtly through out the poem from the ‘I’ to the omniscient poet’s eye that decides her toys are lurching. Finally to the figure spying.

Striptease is essentially a heterosexual male pleasure that invites lust with distance, without real investment in the object other than the surface. Writing about it was a way of establishing my masculinity as a poet. I wasn’t really out at the time, unless getting drunk & having sex with a drunk buddy counts. I was okay being bi but I kept my poetry focus on women.

It’s also about unrequited sex. Our Lady offers it to men who can’t have her, she goes home alone. Our peeper also goes home alone satisfied with his glimpse of the off stage Lady. Both of them caught in a culture in which the observed surface replaces real connection.