She was not a slender woman, <br />but her skin was milk <br />mixed in with strawberry jam <br />& between her legs the word purple was born <br />& her hair was the color of wheat & yellow butter. <br /> <br />Her eyes were dark as the North Atlantic sea. <br /> <br />She learned the untranslatable words of dawn. <br />She studied her own fear & wrote its verses. <br />She used the hole in her heart to play wind-music. <br />She built her book-houses over her empty cellar. <br /> <br />She nursed on the muse at first, <br />then became her own mother.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/self-portrait-35/
