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A portrait-poem on the difficulties of being a woman in public, subject to others' assumptions.
{ inspired by "Miss Gertrude Murray" by Thomas Eakins }
lyrics
I have chosen the pink dress.
I have been terribly good.
I have made myself so good,
sweet and chattering and a girl
and so ready to be known,
held to the light, and handled kindly
that at the vanity this morning,
I did not notice that I have once again
begun to vanish, my dress-hem, my hands.
Imagine me, at the party, needlework and sateen,
papaya-pink. Thinking myself seen.
In my pretty dress, that anyone could look
and understand what I am.
But I will come home. And as I undress,
I will look out into the cold clearing-house of the evening
where the pink in the world is pinched out
like gnats from the fruit bowl
obliterated
while the moon crawls upward, and the vanished women creep out
to cover the dark plains and call, come and see
credits
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