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WOMEN'S PARTYAll the full women we know can come.All the women with their puppies and cats they talk to and trigger thumbs that don't bend right anymore, and with notebooks can come. All the women who long for a thousand gifts, and the women who want nothing but one thing, the women who love lakes and clay pots and living alone can come and the women who are too tired to stay past 9 o'clock can come, and the women who don't have enough time for themselves. That means all women. Grandmothers, prostitutes, and caribbean healers. That means widows, writers, roller-bladers-- they can all come and ask for one thing they want, and at least one woman here will grant them their heart's desire. They will try on each other's clothes and find a black pair of pants that makes them look thin, and those who want to eat ice cream will eat as much as they want without getting full. And the phone will not ring while they are together, and the dishes will wash themselves, the nightmares they came to get rid of will disintegrate in laughter. The stories they wanted to finish will get a new shape, a new destination. The memory of lovers they needed to change will be released. They will pass around the letters of resignation, the ultimatums, the magic potions. |
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Issue #19, March, 2001 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.