Lindsay Bell
A cinch, a whale-bone love’s embrace, a pinch
of finger skin string, of perfect tail.
The taut secret flesh tells to flesh: inhale
her gorgeous bones and she will pull an inch
from out her waist. The beaux will bask in wasp-
waisted perdition, blame the bees inside
her bonnet, blame her wiles, her willful pride,
disfigured shape of lungs and heart. The clasps
that bind her in will swell, she will conceive
and birth another blind hell of gentle will.
That bard boasts her beauty of his invention.
Yet when she grips the poster for reprieve,
it’s her torso-shifting, skirting April
that’s sewn seven ships to her side’s protection.
Lindsay Bell recently received her MFA in Poetry from Columbia College.