← v4n1, Spring 2005
Poetry · Volume 4, Number 1

The State-Line Stripper

I got lost.

At a family picnic for the employees

of Martha White Self-Rising Flour.

Two lovers found me down by the Tennessee River,

a little fat girl

crying into the lichen on a stone's face,

and took me to the grandstand—

Embarrassing—

I got lost. And then I lost my fear.

Strangers and high places

and nightly publishing myself

naked except for a fireman's hat.

I danced and Jehovah's Witnesses

came unglued in the parking lot.

My creation was like the earth's.

In the beginning there was shame,

then the body after shame,

dangerous happiness—

If I could remember how I got here

I wouldn't be lost.

Yet my body recommends me.

All that I promised that I would not do, I did.

I got over my fear of darkness

when it seemed to me anything out there

would probably be better

than what shone here in the light.