Dressing, on The Side
by Lori A. May
She is not yet comfortable
With Botticelli
Thinks it is something to be forgiven
Like Beta tapes left to dust
Sipping juice from the unpeeled orange
Searching for the daintier flesh
Within the folds of restrained citrus
She drapes shame
Over the weight of her heart
Heavier than her shell
Covering sins and regrets
The roundness of her
A barrier
An obstacle
Thick rind sheer with exposure
Away from him
She slips into something
Unlike her
Out of sight
Hidden to the side
Lori A. May (website, blog) is a poet, novelist, and freelance writer whose work has appeared in publications such as The Writer, Tipton Poetry Journal, and anthologies such as Van Gogh’s Ear. She is the author of stains: early poems and two novels. May is also Editor-in-Chief of PoetsQuarterly.com and Founding Editor of The Ambassador Poetry Project.
qarrtsiluni 
Oh this is just a lovely poem. I can remember in my youth more than once feeling my natural female curves to be an obstacle, a shame. And it encompassed my mind too, and my emotions– all round, round, female round, unacceptably weighty, something to be forgiven. (I am way over this, but too much world isn’t!) To combine this with Botticelli, with beta tapes left to dust, with the folds of the restrained citrus… ahh it’s a fine poem.
Lovely poem, lovely voice! The orange is such a perfect metaphor.