"We're not old yet," she honeyed,
dipping my hand into a dish
of vinegar and citrus
and running a coarse line
of kosher salt down my tongue.
"We're not old yet," she honeyed
like when we were still young.
And then, the robe just falls.
Then, the robe just falls
as though it had hung on
nothing at all,
and she says, "Come here.
My body waits
beet-stained, beet-stained.
Come here.
My body waits, beet-stained,
to be stained by you."
But, after school,
she used to hang around nude
in her parents' garden,
taking pictures at angles
that obscured her problems,
so she was never quite sure
if this or that striation
was in her belly or her ass
or her imagination.
But, one time, she was too shy
(or she said she was too shy).
She asked me to come over
and take the pictures for her.
So, I did, while she squeezed her eyelids
shut and blush, blush, blushed,
saying, "Do you think these are too little?
And is this too much?"
And I said, "Let me become you.
I've got nice, blue eyes.
Wouldn't you like to have them, too?
Let me become you.
I've got nice, blue eyes,
already all over you."
Michelle Stodart’s folk music captures hope in melancholy, addressing the transformational aspects of the most challenging times. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 3, 2023
Folk artist Josienne Clarke revisits music from her back catalog, infusing these lonesome songs with a new luminosity and drive. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2023