published in Volume 2, Issue 5 on November 8th, 1995Listen to Janan Platt read her poem, Woman -- A Terza Rima
At the club with pool and courts, sweating on the gray carpet, the copper woman in bike shorts, busy like a sprocket, fit, well not quite. When her head weakens, her thighs remit. Knees, a heart shape desired. My mind reviews womanhood. Her small muscles curved and whittled like rosewood. And I see her on the mat - when I took dance I could make ropey triceps like that. A few wrinkles lined her skin that was otherwise flat. But her curves showed their sin each muscle dipping under, enough to hold a man's grin. Each shape a spiral, going lower, contour draped in worth. And I felt this image's power deep as seawater and birth; how her movement pulls as yet from a force outside the earth. Distanced, she wasn't a threat, a faceless icon. The men's hot eyes loosened her step.