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Terry Collett
Poems
Jan 2013
MISS MAITLAND OF THE D.I.Y. STORE
Miss Maitland
the student girl
who worked Saturdays
in the D.I Y. Store
wore tight jumpers
and jeans or pants
which hugged her body
in a way you used to wish
you could have done
but didn’t and when
she walked up
and down the aisle
to serve
waiting customers
she wiggled
her compact ****
in a way that caught
your imagination
and set it to thoughts
not poetic
you write poetry don’t you?
she asked
yes
what kind of poetry?
non rhyming
blank verse
kind of thing
you replied
what do you write about?
life and people
she stared at you
her eyes dark
and intelligent
what people?
yourself? me?
I don’t write
about myself
you said
taking in
her small compact ****
beneath the cover
of her jumper
the way
they occasionally wobbled
as she moved
or lifted an arm
do you write about me?
she asked
leaning closer
the perfume invading
your nostrils stirring
deep passions
no fictitious people
oh
she said
and went off
to serve a couple
who had entered
the store
you watched her hips sway
as she walked
the tight ****
going side to side
and you feeling
a poem coming on
the muse waking
from its doldrums
Ezra Pound has died
she said
on her return
he was a fascist you know
hated Jews and such things
you watched her lips move
wanting deep down
to connect with them
set yours to hers
invade with your tongue
but he wrote good poems
you said
the Cantos
the translations
etc etc
does that excuse him?
she asked
as a man no
but as a poet
his poems will survive
long after
any moral judgements
of his beliefs
however wrong
or misguided
he may have been
you said
drinking in
her aspect
her **** and ****
the way she looked
and smelt
the bourgeoisie breeding
of her mind and being
she walked off
to serve again
unaware what
beneath her clothing
you were seeing.
Written by
Terry Collett
Sussex, England
(Sussex, England)
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Terry O'Leary
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John F McCullagh
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