The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean—
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my *******,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
  That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
  Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
  And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
  At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
  Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
  With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.

When I was younger
and perhaps wiser
than I am now
I went on a date
with a young woman
to see a movie whose name
I pretend to forget
and I remember her laughing
at children being hanged in
the opening scene and I knew
that it was bad and that I was
in the wrong place at the wrong
time
so I told her I loved her
because I was a wise boy back then
and luckily she said
"okay"
and we parted ways
and it wasn't until I became foolish
and a few years older that
I realized just what I had
done and that
the children on the screen
were all dressed like me

My new winter
coat is black.

It is as black
as a starless
night sky.

Yet, now there
are smudges of
dirt on the ends
of my sleeves.

My coat has hung
on the back of a
chair today.

As I lunched
at a small counter,
eating fried eggs and
hash browns,

someone must’ve stepped
on the sleeves of my coat
and left bits of their own
day behind.

The other day,
I’d asked my wife
to wash my coat
because it had gotten
dusty.

So, she did.
And, out it came
from the dryer,
thick and warm
obsidian.

Now,

I see those smudges
and I think of them
as clouds that race
across a midnight sky.

Like me,
like The Earth,
spinning,
always on the move.

*

-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications