gay, gay poetry

Garbo

Garbo

slunk into my life as Camille 1979-ish
first fave: gowns by Adrian
second fave: Garbo
I get rock hard looking at Robert Taylor
was he in another movie?

Garbo’s sultry eyes,
eyes that whiplash you to death
maudlin story, je t’adore
Verdi underlying the melodrama of it all
sad melancholic Marie Duplessis dying of consumption
such a dramatic death, popular subject in the
romantic, verismo eras
such an alarming death
I simply wanted
to die tubercular

Garbo gimmickry!
honey baked ham bored voice
oh Armand, slurred out across 20 notes
sultry, she sits dying
swan neck upstretched until tomorrow
sweet haunting Traviata underscore
welling tears
keep me in your heart Armand
safe where the world can’t hurt our love

oh girl, that swan neck stretch so done!
she hated her costumes in Camille, noted being
barefoot beneath
would anyone today give up their one true love
so their sister could marry?
complex mores in a moral-less world

she crankyed her way with woeful drear
ballerina in despair, Grand Hotel
butched her way thru Queen Christine
a queen in pants
commie Russian awestruck by a silly hat
same bored-to-tears voice, mesmerized eyes
dreamy Garbo, alluring and sexless
Mata Hari’s allure seems all fashion
not a sexual crescendo to be seen
in B&W she’s fodder for the
camera’s undressing stare
beautiful haunting, in some moments ethereal
no one touched that beauty except the astounding
Hedy Lamar

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