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Column 608

Aunt Eudora's Harlequin Romance

Intro by Ted Kooser
11.13.2016

It’s high time that a col­umn about Amer­i­can life can at last offer a poem about romance fic­tion. Most of us poets are lucky to have a few hun­dred read­ers for our books, and that’s only a tiny frac­tion of the tens of thou­sands of devot­ed fol­low­ers of bodice-rip­pers. Here’s a poem by Mar­i­lyn L. Tay­lor, who lives in Wis­con­sin, that offers an explanation. 

Aunt Eudora's Harlequin Romance

She turns the bedlamp on. The book falls open 
in her mottled hands, and while she reads
her mouth begins to quiver, forming words 
like Breathless. Promises. Elope.
As she turns the leaves, Eudora's cheek
takes on a bit of bloom. Her frowzy hair 
thickens and turns gold, her dim eyes clear,
the wattles vanish from her slender neck.
Her waist, emerging from its ring of flesh, 
bends to the side. Breasts that used to hang 
like pockets rise and ripen; her long legs 
tremble. Her eyes close, she holds her breath— 
the steamy pages flutter by, unread,
as lover after lover finds her bed.

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Disclaimer

We do not accept unsolicited submissions

We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2015 by Marilyn L. Taylor, “Aunt Eudora's Harlequin Romance,” from Third Wednesday, (Vol. IX, No. 1, 2015/2016). Poem reprinted by permission of Marilyn L. Taylor and the publisher. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.

Column 609
Column 607