Friday, April 10, 2015

Writing Workshops: Mary Judith Ress: Essay

The Face

Her face hides a universe of secrets.  We only catch a glimpse of her erotic soul thru her poetry—and the way she dresses to match the fruits and flavours and lush contours of her native land.   Chile has moulded her into a structure: bold for sure, but now responsible and serious.  What is repressed in her spills into my soul—she´s a volcano wanting to erupt again as in the days when all was primal.  With my mind´s eye I can see her dancing like a Mango-sour spinning in the sunlight.  She is fire and full.  Moon Mother.  Bare-breasted, hips swirling to music only she hears.
            Whirling dervish, sitting there so innocently with your specks perched on your nose, you don´t fool me.

1 comment: