lesson name slip my teacher. who is the speaker in the poem
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Explanation:
shatakshi is the speaker in the poem
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Liquid alignment of fabric and outer
thigh. Slip.
Which mimics the thing it’s meant to allow.
Passage
of air on either side of the tongue whose meat
as if
to thicken the likeness of substance and sound
meets just
that plot of upper palate behind the teeth.
And yet
at normal speed the very aptness loses its full
bouquet.
“Salomé was wearing red pumps and the palest of
pale blue
satin slips.” I would in my predictable girlhood
have much
preferred a word I took to be scented like Giverny:
“Salomé
was wearing red pumps and a pale blue satin
chemise.”
It’s taken me all this time to hear the truer
difference—slip—
which only wants a little lingering in the mouth
to summon how it
thinks about the contours of the body. So the
speed of it—
slip—and the lingering can resume their proper tug-
of-war. The boy
they’d had the wit to cast as Salomé, both nude
and may-as-well-be-
nude, was every inch presentable, flawless, as
though one
might live in the body and feel no shame. No
wonder,
forced to endure as they did the reek of the tidal
Thames, our
predecessors took this for the universal object of
desire.
The history of the English stage right there in the
slippage between not-
quite and already over and gone. And yes I
get
the part about predation the grooming in all of its
sordid detail,
I was never half so fair as this but fair enough
to have been
fair game. In a town with limited options.
I’ve spent
more than half my life trying to rid myself
of aftermath
so let me be enchanted now. Youth at a safe
remove.
thigh. Slip.
Which mimics the thing it’s meant to allow.
Passage
of air on either side of the tongue whose meat
as if
to thicken the likeness of substance and sound
meets just
that plot of upper palate behind the teeth.
And yet
at normal speed the very aptness loses its full
bouquet.
“Salomé was wearing red pumps and the palest of
pale blue
satin slips.” I would in my predictable girlhood
have much
preferred a word I took to be scented like Giverny:
“Salomé
was wearing red pumps and a pale blue satin
chemise.”
It’s taken me all this time to hear the truer
difference—slip—
which only wants a little lingering in the mouth
to summon how it
thinks about the contours of the body. So the
speed of it—
slip—and the lingering can resume their proper tug-
of-war. The boy
they’d had the wit to cast as Salomé, both nude
and may-as-well-be-
nude, was every inch presentable, flawless, as
though one
might live in the body and feel no shame. No
wonder,
forced to endure as they did the reek of the tidal
Thames, our
predecessors took this for the universal object of
desire.
The history of the English stage right there in the
slippage between not-
quite and already over and gone. And yes I
get
the part about predation the grooming in all of its
sordid detail,
I was never half so fair as this but fair enough
to have been
fair game. In a town with limited options.
I’ve spent
more than half my life trying to rid myself
of aftermath
so let me be enchanted now. Youth at a safe
remove.
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