idols
mary fox
Marble women are the ones I admire most.
Their soft stone flesh smoothing away centuries of
Sensual concern.
I stare in disbelief, the artistic
Settling of the struggle speaking from within the
Shine of calculated curves,
A man's dreams.
Spellbound, I approach myself.
A shape planned and surveyed by someone whose
Face I can't distinguish with my limited sight.
I don't see after sunset.
The darkness envelopes me and I fade from
Flesh into history on a moonless night.
My daytime identity lost in the sweep of what it means
To any woman in any century,
Trying to touch a man who can't touch in return
any woman who embodies the strength of
Centuries of what being a woman speaks.
The struggle turns the skin to stone and
Renders the mythic power powerless.
When the flesh is unformed the spirit flies
Forward to a time when the earth is dark but
Insight reigns.
And the moon illuminates a firm ground where I can
Once again take root.
Generating a life that grows within me like life without
Self-consciousness.
Life for life's sake.
All time, all cycles.
Mine.
about the author
Mary grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio and has been writing poetry since she was five. Her intensely Catholic upbringing has been a driving force in much of her work. Currently, Mary is a Creative Director and Partner with J.Walter Thompson
advertising agency in San Francisco where she lives with her husband. Mary has been published in the Library of Congress's Poetry Anthology, as well as Tulanian Magazine. She is at work on a collection of haikus written in airport lounges.
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