The Naked Man in the Glass Elevator

Rising above our perplexity
perhaps he remembers
the smiles of nuns,
their dusty spectacles,

or Artemis,
whose milk fed the gazelle
at her clustered breasts–
snowy grapes.

So we too love ballerinas
and the one wild boy
in sea-blue tights
who leaps like a dolphin

and there is not much
more we can say
about the naked man
in the glass elevator.

He rose like the sun.
He descended.
Conventions clothe us
and then we part. 

Lois Marie Harrod's chapbook Furniture won the 2008 Grayson Press Poetry Prize. Previous publications include the chapbook Firmament (2007); the chapbook Put Your Sorry Side Out (2005); Spelling the World Backward (2000); the chapbook This Is a Story You Already Know (l999); Part of the Deeper Sea (1997); the chapbook Green Snake Riding (l994), Crazy Alice (l991) Every Twinge a Verdict (l987). She won her third poetry fellowship from the New Jersey Council on the Arts in 2003. Over 350 of her poems have appeared in journals including American Poetry Review, Blueline, The MacGuffin, Salt, The Literary Review, Zone3.  Seven-time nominee for a Pushcart Prize, she teaches Creative Writing at The College of New Jersey.

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