UNKNOWN DELIA.

[dadio]

Chrissie knows Delia is sex
Mad but the photos she’s

Found tucked away between
The pages of a second hand

Copy of Charlotte Bronte’s
Jane Eyre must have been

Taken some years back going
By the young body and face

Of Delia shown. She takes out
The photos and studies them

Closer. The hair is darker, shorter.
The position of the body is inviting,

Like a flower opening. She blushes,
Not knowing why, she’s seen it all

Before, touched the parts, kissed the
Lips and all. She rubs a finger along

The outline of the photographic skin.
In the background, just a wall and

Curtains of deep pink. Who else
Was there? She muses, looking

Through the other photos, the
Poses different, other positions

Shown more pornographic, less
Artistic. Smut her father’d say if

He had seen; thank Christ he dislikes
The Bronte girls. The eyes of Delia

Stare back and lingering on the lips
The briefest smile. The room is silent,

No birds, music or talk or laughter.
She’ll sit, look and soak it in awhile.

[diesel dyke]

I dig your pop art Dadio

The poem was hot too.
excellent poem indeed
the title gives me pause for thought


on a personal note
A young woman on studio eight once wrote me that a lesbian and an old man are a lot alike.

please pardon the ramble

[dadio]

thank you, diesel.

[joel]

so lively...and vibrant...so how come I can't shake the thought she's cleaning out a bookcase after Delia's death? I suppose if she's sex mad, a present tense can sometimes be better than a feeling of being alive....

[dadio]

thank you Joel.