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Posts Tagged ‘madmen; gender; jewess; don draper; prose poem;’

 

You’ll like this poem, because you should.  Because we all fight for the underdog. It has a nice ring to it, jewess.  Draper invents their dichotomy, but I, I imagine their kiss is sweet, like an apple halved. Fresh, yet sour, and of course, verdant. Very verdant.

 [which is close to virgin].

 

She reminds him of        ofofof   something pure, and of value and  charm. An antique. A throw-back to a day of glory and grain, a day of the humble and pain. She is something unseeming, or appears to be so, until he lays his paws on her.   She wants to love him, but he grows clingy and pale, recoiling from what she is:  jewess.Her kiss is both a mother and a smother. Her wild heathenness beckons and stirs, beckons and purrs, and then, look what the cat drags in:

 

In her, he sees nostalgia. He sees what is sundogged, dawned and near-death.He sees pennies and scrapes and his scraping-by but also sees clarity and calm. In him, she sees his goishe American ways. They are Napoleonic, bionic, and myopic.  They could take over the world, but, she, she is a businesswoman. Her guards [and garters] rise to his touch. If he wants to invest, he will need to earn his shares just like everyone else. She is the Empress of Fifth Avenue. She is a rose, and he is a hornet.

  [ Now, who’s the one with horns?]

 

He abandons his life. In her, he sees how the other side lives, but he forgets she is a proprietor.  She knows what she values and manhood is golden.  The Jewess does not get what she wants, but either does the Don.  He’s got nothing.                 Zilch. 

 

© Umansky 2013

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