Pandora’s Box
Louise, Louise’s bob, her beautiful black hair.
And her eyes, Louise’s eyes,
the darkest possible brown, ringed with kohl.
Her mouth, of course, is a cupid’s bow.
Red like blood, cherries, blood.
She is Pandora. Such a small box
which holds so much evil.
She doesn’t actually care what’s in it,
she’s busy posing; the camera loves her,
photographers want every picture, every inch of her.
Nobody notices when she opens the box.
Darling, yes, I will sleep with you tonight.
She stretches that cupid’s bow.
Always leave them wanting, darling.
The box lies forgotten.
It contains nothing but photos;
photos of Louise, her face, her body.
My God, those eyes!
Page(s) 31
magazine list
- Features
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- 10th Muse
- 14
- Acumen
- Agenda
- Ambit
- Angel Exhaust
- ARTEMISpoetry
- Atlas
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- Candelabrum
- Cannon's Mouth, The
- Chroma
- Coffee House, The
- Dream Catcher
- Equinox
- Erbacce
- Fabric
- Fire
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- French Literary Review, The
- Frogmore Papers, The
- Global Tapestry
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- Interpreter's House, The
- Iota
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- Lamport Court
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- Magma
- Matchbox
- Matter
- Modern Poetry in Translation
- Monkey Kettle
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- North, The
- Oasis
- Obsessed with pipework
- Orbis
- Oxford Poetry
- Painted, spoken
- Paper, The
- Pen Pusher Magazine
- Poetry Cornwall
- Poetry London
- Poetry London (1951)
- Poetry Nation
- Poetry Review, The
- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Poetry Wales
- Private Tutor
- Purple Patch
- Quarto
- Rain Dog
- Reach Poetry
- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
- Seventh Quarry, The
- Shearsman
- Smiths Knoll
- Smoke
- South
- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The