Ode to a Dressmaker's Dummy

    Papier-mache body； blue-and-black cotton jersey cover.

    Metal stand. Instructions included.

    Sears， Roebuck Catalogue

    O my coy darling， still

    You wear for me the scent

    Of those long afternoons we spent，

    The two of us together，

    Safe in the attic from the jealous eyes

    Of household spies

    And the remote buffooneries of the weather；

    So high，

    Our sole remaining neighbor was the sky，

    Which， often enough， at dusk，

    Leaning its cloudy shoulders on the sill，

    Used to regard us with a bored and cynical eye.

    How like the terrified，

    Shy figure of a bride

    You stood there then， without your clothes，

    Drawn up into

    So classic and so strict a pose

    Almost， it seemed， our little attic grew

    Dark with the first charmed night of the honeymoon.

    Or was it only some obscure

    Shape of my mother's youth I saw in you，

    There where the rude shadows of the afternoon

    Crept up your ankles and you stood

    Hiding your sex as best you could？

    Prim ghost the evening light shone through.