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She was a/and almost Saintly Woman

for  Marilyn Monroe

She was a/and almost saintly woman

hovering

a stuttering angel

melting her

(she would have said

it is so wonderful

so marvelous to be happy

but one had to see

that not all misery

is hidden)

she would show how

horses are tamed

how films are made

what her legs looked like

underneath the

finest silk those

men who owned

her made her

wear

she

would tell

of castles

wedding bells &

baseball

literature

a still expandable

( if only in her mind) field

called psychiatry

she would

& did

fight

dogfoods without

mentioning dogs

union locals

barhalls &

stadium crowds

& suddenly

there

was

no

stuttering

angel/even

to say

hello

& there was

no saint

& no

time left

only empty railroad tracks

to move about

deserted wooden station

musky

unoccupated afternoons

so she went

where no one

wanted her to go.

where no one

would listen to her

where everyone

would hear

 

marilyn

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