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One day soon

all our lives will resemble what we see in magazines

You will meet her

in a flat above a Paris street

at a table in a Moroccan tea room

lounging beside an inground pool perched

to overlook the electric horizon

of L.A.'s rug of lights

Rug of zebra print

leopard spots

bear head

unfurled beneath her

razor-fresh calves

ruby painted toes

The kind of woman so striking

she alters a room

projects a mood


not so much beauty

as presence

Imagine if she had command of a bridge

her influence flowing out over the city

Such a woman wants freedom of movement

clothes to house the people she entrances

to fill the skyline of the city she chooses


Perhaps this is her best face

somewhat sporty

as penetrating

as expansive

as the sun’s warmth and light

Possess her

buy her vellum shoes

her paper blouse

and printed cardigan sweater

steal her onion skin

decoupage it over your own

Buy a ticket to Italy, Belgium, Dhubai

hunt down her haunts

insert yourself there

as a bookmark between pages


On page 26 you will find

exactly how your life and hair should be

Just stay away from the flame

Elizabeth Lee has a dangerous addiction to catalogs—intervention may be required. She lives outside of New York City, collaging words together at a snail’s pace. Her poems have appeared in The Harrow, Illumen, and Aoife’s Kiss. Forthcoming work will appear this Fall in Paper Crow and Goblin Fruit. Elizabeth can be reached by email at:

Elizabeth Lee
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