Jane Joritz-Nakagawa

Ode #3

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						Equity Alert


Wonder woman's tiara

You may have wondered 
what happened to
wonder woman’s tiara and
what happened to 
lynda carter

you may wish
you too had large secrets

packed into a too tight 
bra housing large  
breasts more magical than
these you may worry 
that without the tiara 
no one will look at  
your breasts 
or take you home  

you may want 
the tiara so much 
that you plot 
to steal it with 
the help of the  
woman & her 
supernatural charm  

u wonder 
whether the bionic woman 
and wonder woman combined 
r worth more than six charlie's 
angels with/without 
a magic tiara or breasts  

you may wonder about 
the comic books of the 40s 
or the women's era of the 70s where  
women were powerful 
when they had big bionic breasts 
or a magic tiara 
on television


Mother warned me, red-stained eyes  You have to stay out of there!!!   

Up stairs on all fours  I fill another interval  Father is shaving, in that little towel skirt I love
to look under  My back pressed against the  tile, I gaze up, smiling, my upturned face a shiny 
bowl  Baby-coo, how was school today?  

Eight fudge marshmallows don't fit into my mouth all at once Try sideways You have 
a little mouth, don't let anybody tell you different.  
The dentist asks about the scar Don't be putting needles  
there . . .  It's tight in there, don't let nobody  tell you otherwise

In the playground Cheryl hits the smaller ones with her metal Barbie 
lunchbox  Fatty! Fatty!  Lunch is an orange slice and scalding black tea  Someone takes all the 
out of my bag  You catch more flies with honey

In my room  white gold trimmed furniture and pink  
ruffle curtains Deers arranged in packs and rows 
alongside my sister's porcelain  
elephants  Mother chose mine These are the ones you like  The most popular girl  
in school, from next door, waves  by with three girls from the  
neighborhood  They cast black spells on us  My nickname  
is Lips  Crying about the  
teacher bullied today, and the girls going by  
You've got to grow a thicker skin  Mother 
asks me to hold the raw chicken  
upright cold flesh wriggling away . . .

First a toe, then all  toes together bending 
like a fan  Then past the fan of toes, ball 
of foot, heel with its many callouses  Thick ankles, above the bone 
down through piano leg calves, now moistened 
crotch, up veiny thighs, hip is in, round buttocks too  The earth 
smooths over ribs like iron, a fence beyond where breasts should 
be, lumpy throat, famous puffed rice kind of lips, greyish blue eyes flat as  
coins, blonde lashes like webs in the yard, eyebrow with the swaggering scar, peachfuzz hair  

I am completely submerged 
Every day they try and try to pull me out but it's useless

Davy Jones

The Partridge family 
don't look alike and only
Davy Jones is British
of the Monkees. Don't
Susan Dey and David Cassidy
look alike despite not being related? & 
couldn't they lend their
Ys to the Monkees, whose singer
is no relation to their mother Shirley
Jones despite the same
name. Weren't we 
alike once, weren't we in 
love, didn't we come from
the same country don't
u wish even now to divorce
your wife and abandon 
your child and come 
back to me, like Lassie
coming home after a long trip aren't
u tired don't u wonder
Y u left in the lst place suffer
from jet lag & be-
moan all the money that's gone and
will never be recovered?
like Shirley Jones—yet she does
recover in the next episode. Couldn't 
we all be like that if not look alike
and not sharing the same
name. Would it be
nice to travel without regret—the Partridge family
have just come back from 
a long trip after initial
difficulties & the commercial break everyone is now
content happy together they don't 
tear at each other like dogs
on the sofa—who don't 
even look like each other speak the
same language or come from the same country David 
Cassidy and Susan Dey might even
be in love w/each other altho
they r brother & sister 'cuz
they r'nt really brother & 
after all we were 
never in love you don't wish
to divorce your wife and
come back to "me" as if i were a failed
sitcom being rerun on late nite tv. i
don't really speak your language
well enuf to sing like Davy Jones
who might not really be British just
like the Partridge family don't really
sing or at least not all of them but
who are u to judge maybe 
you'd really like to stay 
up late w/the lite on watching the Partridge
family pretend to be a family and lip synch
failed songs—like in a late nite
sci fi movie, a mess delivered onto Shirley
Jones' dress whose manager
now removes her from camera view
(the manager in the sitcom not of the 
sitcom)—i am not really in your family
but of your family somehow
distantly related like Shirley
and Davy might be probably not
a group of actors lipsynching in front
of an artificial audience who prefer sitcom
stardom or the appearance of it
like Davy Jones despite not speaking
the same language 
on simulated late nite tv