Put them all over your ass.
    For dance lessons,
    you need a spangled
    costume. It should be snug,
    and have sequins all over the ass.
    Jewel tones
    are best.
    Wonder Woman
    is the model,
    though her sequins were really shiny gold stars
    (all over her ass).
    The ass you see is the thing.
    If you forget your steps,
    at least you shine.
    at least you shine.

    Meat Dress

    I want a dress of meat.
    Cured, however.
    I want it to be somehow pretty,
    and salty,
    and sweet.
    Red is fine, red will do.
    I want it stitched up with big stitches.
    I want it to have great lines
    and marbling. I want it to be long.
    I want the fat to skim
    the dirt, the white edges to turn brown.
    I want to be jerky.
    I don’t want to get caught
    in the lurch. I’ll share
    my snacks, I’ll be naked under the meat.
    The residue of dress
    is what you remember, in a reverie:
    my mother used to dress me.



    This is mine.
    (I am a Candy Striper,
    eating hamburgers
    and ice cream
    in the cafeteria.
    My pinafore and all
    are too small.
    Hate the fat
    white dress, the escort,
    and dance
    [where the people are smiling,
    but the talent is idle].
    Let me volunteer in the emergency room.
    Give me tools to break down.
    [Break down: to separate
    and clean
    the used
    and bloody insturments.]
    The cuter of the two,
    on the TV show Emergency,
    was the one named Randolf Mantooth.
    I don't want to chat.
    Lunch is free.
    I eat until I can't anymore.
    I quit.)
    I am not a debutante. I am your



    Bio Note
      Holly is a poet and a museum guard from San Diego, CA. 
      her manuscript, Lip, can be found at